


Falling In Love (with a guy)

by EmmaLikesTheInternet



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU where Ryan and Brendon acctually talk, FOB, Fluff, Frerard, Frerard High School AU, Gen, High School AU, M/M, MCR, Mikey Way is a unicorn, P!ATD, also warning i am going through an obsession with oxymorons and juxposition so watch out for that, buckle up broflakes its gonna be fab, dollop of angst, full length, i make a few milk puns sorry not sorry, mild TW for self harm and panic attack in later chapters, petekey, so many fall out boy references, theres only a lil joetrick sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 57,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLikesTheInternet/pseuds/EmmaLikesTheInternet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard started his new high school, he didn't fraction in breaking into the school building at three am with a moody, five-foot-four semi-emo with a leather jacket and a lip piercing.</p><p>Then again, nor did he expect to befriend him at all.</p><p>And one thing definatly not on his checklist was falling in love. With a guy. </p><p>But, hey, fate has a funny way of suprising you. The moment you get cocky, the moment you say you got it all planned out, BAM! Some clever plot twist takes you by suprise.</p><p>And Gerard had a name for this. A name for this turn of events, this glorious plot twist.</p><p>In his life, he liked to call it Frank Iero.</p><p> </p><p>Just a lovely ol' Frerard high school au. Hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. High School: May contain soccer team cults and poltergeists

When Gerard started his new high school, he didn't fraction in breaking into the school building at three am with a moody, five-foot-four semi-emo with a leather jacket and a lip piercing.

Then again, nor did he expect to befriend him at all.

And one thing definatly not on his checklist was falling in love. With a guy. 

But, hey, fate has a funny way of suprising you. The moment you get cocky, the moment you say you got it all planned out, BAM! Some clever plot twist takes you by suprise.

And Gerard had a name for this. A name for this turn of events, this glorious plot twist.

In his life, he liked to call it Frank Iero.

-

"Oh shit. Oh shit."

Gerard turned to his brother from where he was shoving notebooks into his new backpack.

"What is it, Mikey?"

"There." 

Gerard followed his finger to see a group of big, burly guys congragating practically on their doorstep.

"Okay, so, the soccer team meets outside our house. Big deal."

"You know I have bad experiences with soccer teams."

"Mikey, we haven't even started the school yet. You're paranoid."

"I'm a spotty, ashmatic nerd with huge glasses who also happens to be increadibly shy with an immense hatred for sports, bullies, and school in general. You are an ever-so-slightly more laid back semi artist, semi nerd, with greasy black hair, even MORE spots that me, and an equal hatred for people in general. Not even mentioning you're hella gay. Gerard, we are DEAD."

"Fuck, those details were unnecessary, but you're right. We're dead meat." 

They stood there for a good minute, staring at each other.

"Gerard...you know I was exaggerating when I said those things about you, right?"

"Mikey, you are way too sensitive. You're my brother, you're supposed to hate my guts."

"But..."

"Yes, I know. Stop worrying about me, I'm not five. Now, we have more pressing issues. How are we gonna get past them every single day without getting murdered?"

"I thought you said I was overreacting..."

"Jesus, Mikey. I'm kidding. Come on."

He grabbed the arm of his awkward, caring little brother and dragged him out of the door. Half a dozen eyes turned in their direction, accusing, intimidating. Gerard gulped, looking into the faces of the threatening, furious faces of whom he had interupted.

Mikey whimpered, barely audible.

Suddenly, he was cornered by his own house, as angry figures shifted, surrounding him. One-he seemed to be the ringleader-cracked his knuckles.

"I was right," hissed Mikey.

"Damn you."

"So, what exactly do you think you're doing here?" came a throaty voice from the guy at the front.

"We live here..."

"Gee, this really isn't time!"

"Gee, huh? What a cute nickname." the guy sneered. "Brothers, I presume?"

"What a pair of losers," piped up another.

"Well, what you gonna do when both of you go crying to mommy?"

"Heh heh heh," they all laughed, except for two on the outskirts of the group.

"Hey, hey. Adam? Why don't you just cut them some slack." 

Gerard eyed the guy pushing himself to the front of the group. He was short with dark hair and...was that eyeliner? It was plainly obvious that he didn't belong.

"Shut up, Pete. Remember, you're an honoury member."

"Adam, I'm the fucking captain."

"Well, being a jock ain't quite your scene, eh? Face it, loser, you don't belong. Anywhere." Gerard and Mikey both winced, watching the light sparkle out of the dark haired boy's eyes. "Plus, you don't take it seriously. We gotta keep the authority around here."

"By beating up innocent kids?"

"You're not a proper member!"

"What's this, some kinda cult?" Mikey hissed. The guy with the dark hair- Pete- raised an amused eyebrow at him, as if to say 'you'll be suprised'.

"Well, surely I am." piped up the blond kid in the corner.

"Bob, I-"

"It's too early in the semester to get suspended. Plus, its too early for violence. This is literally their first day at school. Like Pete said, cut them some slack."

"First day at school, huh?"

Mikey and Gerard nodded, uneasy. Gerard was seriously considering making a bolt for it and leaving Mikey to face the wrath.

"Well why don't we show the losers who's boss?" 

"Shit. That's it. Come on, Mikey," mumbled Gerard.

"After three."

"THREE!"

They legged it.

"You're not getting away with this!" yelled Adam the jock, making them run even faster.

-

"Hey! Gerard! How was your lessons?"

Gerard turned around to see his brother racing up to him.

"Not bad. I had art, which was great. The jock dude was glowering at me through the whole of history, but hey. How was your morning?"

"Not bad. Everyone here seems alright. I've even got us somewhere to sit at lunch!"

Without another word, Mikey dragged Gerard towards a table in the corner of the canteen.

"Mikey Way, social queen. Don't know where you inherited that from," said Gerard lowly.

"Hey, somebody has to do the dirty work around here."

Gerard detected the undertone and was extremely grateful of the effort his brother went to to include him. God, he was the best.

"Hey, guys. This is Gerard, my brother, the one I told you about."

Gerard flicked his slightly greasy fringe away from his eyes and smiled at the people nodding at him and welcoming him. He took in their appearances.

One had caramel hair, a few shades lighter than Mikey's, and was wearing a hat pulled over his eyes. He gave Gerard a warm smile and went back to frowning at his full plate. The second had floppy, dark hair that came to a point level with his nose, and his eyeliner-rimmed eyes crinkled and blunted mischievously at Gerard. The final guy had a huge, brown afro that bobbed slightly as he nodded at him. Gerard tried not to grin as he took a seat.

"Gee, this is Patrick, Brendon and Ray. Patrick's in my English and I accidently ended up talking to them all."

"You act like that's a bad thing," chuckled the middle one- Brendon- with that glint in his eyes again. He was the kind of teasing, annoying guy that Gerard normally hated, but it worked on Brendon.

"It is a bad thing, Brendon," said the Afro guy.

"Ignore Ray, he's a sleep-deprived asshole," added the first guy, Patrick.

"I'm just an asshole in general. No need to justify it." He flashed a sarcastic smile.

"Excuse him. He's not normally like this." Patrick was still picking at his food.

"Hey Trick, you gonna eat that?" A figure crept up behind the table, placing two hands on Patrick's shoulders. 

"Holy smokes, Pete!" yelped Patrick, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Seriously, Trick. Eat the damn mash potato."

Gerard looked at the newcomer and realised with a start it was the guy from this morning, with the dark hair and the eyeliner. He fitted in much more with this crowd.

"Hey, there!" said the guy.

"Hey. You're the guy from this morning?" asked Mikey hesitantly. 

"Pete," answered the guy, offering his hand. They both shook it in turn.

"Mikey. This is Gerard, my brother, who appears to be too socially awkward to introduce himself."

Gerard glared at Mikey as Pete grinned. 

"Thanks for saving our sorry butts this morning," said Gerard.

"Hey, no problem. But I've noticed Adam staring daggers at Mikey, so I'd watch out, if I were you."

Patrick muttered something that sounded a bit like 'sounds like he wasn't the only one staring'. He earned himself an 'accidental' shove from Pete. Mikey seemed completely oblivious.

-

That day, Mikey had decided to go to Patrick's house to work on a project for English. Gerard was so proud of his little brother for getting over his shyness, but it did mean Gerard had to walk back. Alone.

Not that he would admit it, but he was scared.

So the only rational thing to do was to avoid walking home altogether. To hide in an empty classroom for half an hour until everyone had left.

However, that didn't quite go to plan. He was just peaking around the door when he came nose-to-nose with the soccer team, minus Pete and the blond haired guy (Bob?).

"Thought you would get away with it, eh?" 

"Hello, soccer team cult."

That probably wasn't the best thing to say.

"Well, lookie what we have here. Freak with a bit of cheek, eh?"

Shit.

"Whoa, wait. Why don't we just-"

"Just sit down? Sit down and talk about this, together? Maturity, huh?"

"....I guess...." Gerard began to calculate the best moment to bolt.

"Sit down and talk like men. Like fucking PUSSIES more like!"

The soccer team cult started guffawing. Gerard wasn't seeing the funny side, to be honest.

All of a sudden, the shelf opposite to where Gerard stood, backed up to the wall, began to tremble violently, and everyone turned around.

"So that's why-" began the ringleader when, all of a sudden, there was a massive bang as the shelf fell to the ground.

For a silent second, they all stared.

Then a bloodcurdling scream met Gerard's ears as Adam, the leader, ran out of the room yelling 'poltergeist' at the top of his lungs. A boy with painfully red hair raced after him, spinning past Gerard, who slipped over on a project folder, landing on the feet of another guy. The guy hissed in anger and was about to kick Gerard in the butt when his phone began to ring.

"Shit, it's my mom. She's been called to meet the principle about the thing with the bar..."

Gerard watched as they all ran as fast as their legs would carry them, forgetting about him.

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding and slumped on the floor, filled with relief. He eyed the shelf that had saved him.

"Thanks, poltergeist," he said.

"You're welcome," came a muffled voice, and Gerard jumped out of his skin.

He heard a chuckle as the cabinet of the shelf opened with a scream of rusty hinges, and a boy clambered out.

The boy had dark, ruffled hair, smiling eyes and a lip ring. A grin was painted across his face.

"Hey," he said, helping Gerard up. He was at least a head shorter than him. "I'm Frank Iero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Mikey isn't ashmatic but for the sake of this he is okay


	2. All Hail Mikey Way, great lord of unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey Way is just really passionate about unicorns. And Pete Wentz, but that's another story.

"Whoa, wait. Who even are you? What are you doing here?"

"I told you. My name is Frank Iero and I go to this school."

They were sat on two chairs Frank had pulled out for them, Gerard busying himself questioning every word that came out of Frank's mouth while Frank tried to get a word in edgeways and explain to the confused boy what had happened.

"Yeah, I know. You said. But-"

"Look, whoever you are, I just saved your ungrateful ass. Shut the fuck up and let me explain."

Gerard was taken aback by the sudden outburst, but let him continue.

"My name is Frank Iero, and I go to this school. I have not been possessed by the residant poltergeist, I just happened to be hiding in the cuboard. My friend Joe bet me 30 bucks I couldn't spend the whole afternoon in that teacher's cuboard, so I did. I was going to leave but you were hiding in the classroom for like 15 minutes and I'm too fucking awkward to actually get out of there and face explaining to you. Then I saw you about to be beaten up- nice going on your first day here, I assume, by the way- so I thought fast and, as Adam's superstitious as shit, I did the first thing that I could think of."

"Okay. Thank you," mumbled Gerard.

"Sorry, what was that? Didn't quite catch that," said Frank, a grin playing across his face.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry, what was that? You really need to speak up." Gerard was ready to slap that stupid smile off his face.

Scowling, he leaned in, bending down until he was practically nose to nose with Frank.

"Thank you for saving my sorry butt, you little shit."

Frank smirked, victory imminent on his face.

"Hey, don't mention it."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Gerard realized he was still painfully close to the shorter boy's face, and awkwardly backed away.

"Okay, now it's your time to explain. What were you doing in a classroom I was trying to escape?"

Gerard gathered himself up, balancing his chin on his closed fists. He opened his mouth and his voice was soft, shy.

"I was hiding. This morning, they were all meeting practically on my doorstep, and my brother and I...well, we were minding our own business, when I kind of, uh, provoked them a little? And Mikey, my brother, he was freaking out, and this guy called Pete basically saved us."

"Oh yeah, Pete Wentz," said Frank. He had been completely quiet, nodding at the right time, before that.

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, Mikey made friends, and ended up going to Patrick's house for an....English project, I think? Anyway, I am a fucking wimp and so I thought, since I would be walking back alone, better safe than sorry. Obviously, that backfired."

"Hey, your welcome," grinned Frank, tossing his hair. Gerard laughed.

"Yep. Well done for coming out of the closet."

Did he really just say that?

-

"Hey there, Gee. How's it goin'?"

"You asshole. You abandoned me and didn't even answer my texts. You utter asshole."

"Love you too, big bro. You know, I'm suprised you're not dead or calling from the hospital or something."

"I hate you."

"Shame."

"How's Patrick's house?"

"Not bad, not bad. He has a massive collection of fedoras and its really quite remarkable."

"Wow. Anyway, mom says you have to be home by eight. Have a wonderful time, lil bro."

"Thanks, big bro."

-

"Okay. Now you have to tell me how you survived."

The Way brothers were on their way (no pun intended) to school, and Mikey was interrogating his brother about yesterday.

"Why don't you ask him."

Gerard waved a lazy hand at a figure across the street who had just conveniently exited his house.

"Hey, random dude across the street! How did Gerard my wonderful brother not die yesterday?"

"Because I, the poltergeist in shining armour, saved him!" yelled none other than Frank Iero.

"Huh?"

"You know what, Mikey?" sighed Gerard, "I'll explain later."

He never did.

-

"Hello, Gerard, lovely brother of the lovely Mikey. I have been recruited to drag you by the ear- and what a lovely ear it is, indeed- across the hall so you can explain what happened yesterday to your concerned, confused and somewhat amused brother."

It was Thursday lunchtime and Gerard's sketching time had been rudely interupted.

"Hey there, Brendon," chuckled Gerard.

"I have been instructed to not respond to anything you say."

"By who?"

"The unicorn lord."

"You just responded."

"Fuck you."

Gerard chuckled again. He could get used to this. Get used to having friends.

"Unicorn lord, I have found specimen B," said Brendon, dragging Gerard towards his brother, who was sat ontop of a table stolen from god-knows-where with a cardboard tube decorated with Sharpie balanced atop his head. It was formed into a menacing spike.

"Thank you, Agent Forehead. You have done well," purred Mikey in a faux English accent.

"Whoa wait, why am I only specimen B? I'm your brother!"

"Silence!" yelled the unicorn lord. "Rule eleven of the royal court of unicorns; prisoners must only speak when spoken too."

"Mikey, unicorns don't exist."

"I would like to remind you that last time you said that, I was nearly electrocued. And rule one states all trying to harm the unicorn lord will suffer severe punishments from Andy." Mikey gestured to his side, where a guy Gerard didn't recognise was cracking his knuckles.

Gerard opened his mouth when the door opened, and Frank was carried in by Pete Wentz. Pete appeared to have written 'hail the unicorn lord' on his forehead using eyeliner.

"Ah yes, specimen A. Thanks, Pete."

"Unicorn lord, may I object. That is my catchphrase."

"I apologise, Agent Fedora."

"Mikey! I want to be specimen A!"

"What the actual fuck is going on?"

Everyone started talking at once.

"Silence!" yelled Mikey. "Rule twenty-four: no cussing in the unicorn court. I will let you off ad you didn't know. Specimen B, however! No speaking unless spoken to! Andy, the punishment."

The guy next to Mikey produced a bucket from seemingly nowhere, with 'property of the fabulous kitten' scrawled on it. He produced a dripping wet sock at threw it, hitting Gerard square in the face.

"Sorry! Omigosh, sorry! Did I hurt you? I have a towel here somewhere...oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he squeaked in a comically high voice.

"Mikey!" yelled Gerard, furious. "Those are my favorite socks! How did you-"

"Now, everybody. Let us begin. Prisoners, you are here because you refused to explain what happened on the 2nd of September for many days now. I was going to let it be but curiosity got the better of me, and so I decided to take matters into my own hands. Witness A, Joeseph Mark Trohman, confirmed that you, Specimen A, were dared to stay in that very classroom. Witness B, Peter too many freakin middle names Wentz, confirmed you, Specimen B, did in fact..." He continued as Gerard tuned out.

"Why, Mikey?"

"Oh, I just wanted to check you weren't making out with a guy I hadn't approved of."

"You know," said Frank, "I'm gonna hang out with you guys more often."

-

Frank was true to his word.

That Friday, with the help of his friends Ryan and Joe, he had found the group at their usual table and dragged them to his newfound hideout.

"This, children, is our newfound place."

"Newfoundland," said Mikey in his faux British accent.

"Mikey dearest, your British accent sucks balls," said Pete.

"Yeah. Your British accent is gay," piped in Brendon.

"What's to say it's a male accent? Could be female and perfectly straight."

"Nah, he's male, his voice is male. His accent is gay."

Gerard sighed. "Can't accents just be non binary?"

"Still gay."

"Anyway, yes. This is our newfound place, the cork tree."

"What's a cork tree?" Brendon asked. The guy honestly couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"I don't know, man. Just look." Frank gestured at where somebody had scrawled 'the cork tree' in black biro.

Patrick plonked down. 

"From under the cork tree, we sit."

Pete plonked down beside him.

"Poetic much."

"It would make a good song name."

"Nah," said Frank's friend Joe, "it would be a good album name."

"If you took away the 'we sit', it would be perfect," piped Andy, the one who had thrown socks at Gerard.

Brendon sat, dragging the new guy, Ryan, and Ray, the one with the Afro, with him.

"What would you guys call your band?"

Mikey sat aswell. "You know, I'm really stumped on that one."

"Patrick Stumped," said Patrick, and they all laughed.

Gerard looked over at Frank, the two of them still stood up.

"Thank you. For this." he said, smiling shyly.

He looked at the shorter boy. He looked at the way the shadows carressed his features, at his lip ring, at the way his hair hung over his eyes, how his lips creased into a smile.

"It's the least I could do. After all, I am your poltergeist in shining armour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot string together words that explain how fun that was to write, nor ones to explain how much I love Mikey Way.


	3. Fellowship of the nerd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the fall out boy references.

"Do you, by any chance, like Star Wars?"

Gerard had just woken up to his phone ringing. Before he could gather his thoughts, Frank was yelling questions down the phone.

"Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Joe has obtained every Star Wars movie ever created, including several behind-the-scene documentries. Would you and Mikey be up for the ultimate Star Wars marathon?"

Gerard immediately forgot his exhaustion.

"Yeah! That sounds great!"

"One condition: bring snacks." Frank hung up.

Gerard grinned and bounced out of the door, yelling his brother's name.

It was crazy how much he had been smiling recently.

-

"Popcorn! Coke! Cookies! You guys are life savers."

They were the last to step through the door of Joe's house, having gotten lost on the way despite Frank's....impeccable directions. Pete launched himself at them, acting more puppy than human.

"Peeete! Don't scare them away!" came a voice from inside that Gerard recognised as Patrick's. 

"Honestly, with the promise of Star Wars, you'll have to try harder than that to scare me away." Pete flashed Mikey a million dollar smile.

"Are you guys coming in or what?" Gerard dragged Mikey inside, where Frank was waiting. He looked at the boy. His eyes glinted back at Gerard, smiling and open. He radiated kindness, an unusual selflessness that showed how willing he was to spread his smiles and care, although Gerard had seen how it effected him. Although, at moments, Gerard saw the shadows on the teens face, saw that everything wasn't okay. And yet he still smiled, he still joked, he still tried his very hardest to make everyone else better. He cared.

It was nothing short of inspiring.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he entered the front room and found a space on the couch, next to Frank. 

"Hey there, Gee, old buddy, old pal!"

"The terribleness of your accents rivals even that of the unicorn lord," yelled Pete from the other room where he and Mikey were chatting.

"Hey!" There was a crash as Mikey attacked Pete or something.

Frank caught Gerard's eye and they both burst out laughing.

"Like a married couple," he hissed, making Gerard laugh even harder.

The door opened again as Pete and Mikey finally joined the rest of them.

"Where even were you two? Making out in Joe's bathroom?" grumbled Patrick, which set Gerard and Frank off again.

"Gerard, you are in my seat," said Pete, shoving him gently.

"You didn't answer Patrick's question," grinned Ray.

"We were talking!" Mikey groaned.

Gerard and Frank were wheezing by this point.

"Gerard, move," said Pete.

Still laughing, he budged up, letting Pete squeeze into a space. This meant that he was squished up against Frank's side, but he wasn't complaining.

"Hey, where am I supposed to sit?" Mikey complained.

"Pete's lap," suggested Andy quietly. Gerard watched the back of his brother's neck flush. Pete was even redder.

"You know what?" Mikey marched over to the sofa, face burning. "I will." A mixture of pride and humiliation on his face, he promptly sat on the dark-haired teen's lap.

"Please. My lungs are dying," wheezed Frank. Gerard wiped away a tear.

Mikey and Pete were both beetroot red. By this point, the entire room was in fits of laughter.

"I'll start the DVD," said Joe, still giggling. Before long, they were all lost in a land far, far away.

-

The second movie just ended when Frank spoke, the first human voice in a good two hours.

"Last time I marathoned Star Wars, I did it in order of how old it was. I think its better this way."

"Trick's a Star Wars virgin, so we made it easier for him," said Pete. Gerard looked over at him. Mikey was still stubbornly on his lap, but they looked a lot more comfortable. Pete had snaked an arm around his waist, and Mikey was leaning into the older boy. They did, undoubtedly, have something between them.

Mikey had never once mentioned anything about being homosexual in the slightest, but, to be fair, he had only ever had two girlfriends. One, Kristin, had been very sweet, but she moved to the other side of America, so they had decided to cut it off. Alicia, however....that had ended much more messily. Gerard shuddered at the thought.

Now here he was, blushing whenever he made eye contact with Pete. Gerard liked Pete. He radiated this bubbly happiness, but his eyes were caring and thoughtful. He had managed to get Mikey out if his shell unbelievably quickly, and Gerard could tell they trusted each other. He was the kind of person Mikey needed.

All of a sudden, the door opened. 

"Hey, boys. I hate to ruin your fun but you really need some lunch, and you've been watching that for way to long. I've ordered pizza and you better eat it while actually socializing." The man closed the door again. 

Joe yawned. "Oh yeah, that was my dad by the way."

"Ew. Socializing," said Andy.

"I agree. Sorry, but if Obi Wan turned up on my doorstep, it's goodbye to y'all. No offence," said Joe.

"None taken, as I would do the exact same."

They both sighed, and they all sat in silence for a bit. It wasn't an awkward silence; not in the slightest. It was comfortable, and warm, and homely. It was a good silence, thought Gerard to himself.

It was a good silence because these were his friends.

"Pizza's here!" yelled Joe's dad, and he placed a precarious pile of boxes on the nearest table. "Socialize, the lot of you."

"Nerdship before socializing," said Ray.

"Hey, I have an idea," said Pete, wriggling out from under Mikey. Mikey didn't make much of an effort to hide his disappointment.

"What?" said Patrick, sliding to the floor.

Pete automatically took Mikey's hand, making them both flush, and dragged him to the floor so they could attack the pizza. "We stay as nerds, together."

"Fellowship of the nerd!" Patrick chuckled.

"May nothing but death do us part, nerds together forever."

Ray cheered, shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. Before long, Joe and Andy joined the little picnic.

"Well, I must say, this is nice, Mr. Way," grinned Frank, as the others' conversations faded into the background, teen movie style.

"Yes, Mr. Iero, 'tis a pleasure," replied Gerard. They met eyes for a second too long. 

"I'm never going to stop saying this, but thank you. Thank you for going so far to include us. It's....well, I find it hard to...you know...." He sighed. "Never mind."

Frank gave him the most genuine, sincere smile Gerard had ever received. 

"Oh, belive me, I know."

-

Sometime in the middle of the fourth movie Frank's arm found itself around Gerard's shoulder. He couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petekey. Petekey. Glorious Petekey.
> 
> Thnks fr th kudos


	4. Midnight Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard Way is a fucking idiot and forgets his brothers birthday. Thus the midnight mission commences.

Saturday night, Gerard awoke with a cold sweat.

It was Mikey's birthday tommorow.

It was Mikey's birthday tommorow.

IT WAS MIKEY'S BIRTHDAY TOMMOROW AND HE HAD DONE NOTHING.

His mind went into panic mode, as he switched on his phone.

00:32, the bright display read. He had time. Sort of.

He unlocked it and looked at the contacts on his history.

'Idiot.' No. That was Mikey. Calling Mikey for help for Mikey's birthday really wouldn't help much.

'Ray.' No. Ray lived to far away.

Then he saw the perfect one.

'Poltergeist in shining armour.'

-

"What. The fuck. Is going on."

Gerard sighed, rubbing his eyes, earning himself a glare from Frank.

"Gerard! Don't tell me you missed me too much, I saw you three hours ago before you passed out."

"How can you be sarcastic at this ungodly hour?"

"It's only half twelve. Sleep is for the weak. Now, why am I here?"

"It's Mikey's birthday and I completely forgot. Can you, by any chance, bake?"

Gerard leaned forwards and whispered his plan in Frank's ear. Frank laughed, loud.

"Gerard Way. You are a fucking genius. Come on."

Gerard grinned, despite his wearyness.

"Operation Unicorn is go!"

-

"Part One: baking a cake. This is going to be the best motherfucking cake in the history of the universe, right, Gerard? Gerard?"

"You know, Frank. I could really, really, really, really, really, really do with some coffee right now."

Frank sighed and began to make Gerard his coffee.

"Okay, so this is some hardcore midnight baking," said Frank, skimming the recipe book open in his arms. Gerard grunted.

Frank sighed again and got him his coffee.

"So, Gerard. You with me now? Hardcore baking? Layer cakes?"

"Oh right, yeah, cool. Should I read out the ingredients while you weigh the stuff or something?" Gerard was beginning to wake up as the caffine kicked in. Frank, however, seemed to have this endless, secret supply of energy, and he wasn't about to share it with anyone.

For a while they just chatted, about everything and nothing, about school, about home, about bands they liked, about the inevitablility of death; anything that crossed their minds, to be honest. Then Frank dropped the huge bag of flour on the floor and before they knew it, they were both on Frank's kitchen floor, aimlessly chucking fistfuls of flour at each other, both in fits of laughter.

"You have flour in your hair," remarked Gerard matter-of-factly, and they began to laugh even harder.

They lay on the floor for even longer, in the comfortable silence of friendship Gerard was growing accustomed to.

"You know, this is crazy. Here we are, in my kitchen, baking a cake for your brother at two am. So much could go wrong right now: my mom could come down any minute and murder us; the cake could burn and set fire to the house; this plan could be a massive mistake and go horribly wrong. But look at me. Me. Here I am, lying on this kitchen with you. You. You whom I barely even know, who I met only a week ago. And yet this is one of those perfect moments."

Gerard looked over, taken aback by this little speech.

"Was that sentimentality, Iero?" he teased, but a huge grin was plastered across his face.

They looked at each other. Frank had the most intriguing eyes.

"Let's bake this cake, then," said Frank, getting up almost awkwardly. Gerard stiffled a laugh as a cloud of flour was freed at that sudden movement.

-

"I feel like I've just sent my son to collage," laughed Frank as they put the cake in the oven. Gerard smiled at him.

"This cake is our child," he whispered. "Blood, sweat and tears went into that."

"It takes more than blood, sweat and tears to make a baby."

"It takes sex to make a baby," remarked Gerard. God knows where this confidence was coming from. Talking about sex infront of his crush?

Gerard nearly dropped his oven gloves. Had he really just thought that?

Had his brain just subconsciously admitted to liking Frank?

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

"My mom would freak if we had sex in the kitchen. Saying that, she would freak if we were simply IN the kitchen, so let's hope she doesn't need a glass if water tonight.

Gerard laughed politely, his mind elsewhere.

He didn't have a crush on Frank. He couldn't have a crush on Frank.

What was happening?

-

"Part Two: organisation. Phones at the ready!" 

The two of them had retreated back to Gerard's house, and were sprawled on beanbags in Gerard's room.

"We are going to get some very angry, very tired lectures."

As it turned out, the only person they got through to was Patrick, who was too tired to form a coherent thought, let alone a lecture. So in the end, they left their friends some weary voicemails.

"Okay, so, part a check. Now, a place for all this."

"Hey, I have an idea. My parent's are both out tommorow and most of the next day. We have a spare basement that would work."

"Nice!" Gerard checked his watch. "Time to ice the cake."

Everything was coming together as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler/build up chapter for the next one (which I'm really excited about) but the Frerard action has begun to take off yay
> 
> I lost £20 today but it gave me this enormous sense of wellbeing because I thought that well a person will pick that note up and it will brighten their day so what if I am slightly less rich now that ladies and gentlemen is optimism (that I thought was nessessary to share with y'all...)


	5. When in doubt, steal 20 bottles of Patrick Stump's whiteout.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mikey's birthday, and Gerard has formulated a wonderful plan.

"Everybody ready?"

Gerard was probably treating this more like an army boot camp than a bunch of teenagers in a basement trying to organise a birthday suprise, but he didn't care.

Mikey was his brother. Mikey deserved this.

"As ready as we'll ever be," said Pete, squirming with excitement. He was probably the most eager in the room, which made sense, as a, he was the closest to Mikey in the room aside from Gerard who was currently too cranky from lack of sleep to show any excitement, and b, he had the enthusiasm of a puppy on a sugar rush. 

"Okay then. Now...we wait."

Gerard turned his phone on full volume, plonking down on the floor and waiting for his plan to unfold. He wrapped his hands around his coffee, admiring the fruit of his labour; the almost magically transformed basement.

Everyone was silent. 

All of a sudden, his phone beeped. There was a text from his mom; one word. Toaster.

"Let's get this party on the road," he announced. "Literally."

-

Here was the plan.

Pete had borrowed (stolen) his uncle's pickup truck, and they had piled the back high with planks and slabs of stone so it resembled a float. While Pete drove as slowly as he could muster (fairly fast) Patrick was balanced precariously atop it, playing on his keyboard. Andy was beside him, playing a steady beat on a marching drum they found in Brendon's garage. The rest of them were marching/jogging alongside the truck that Pete drove. They had bought some jackets from the 24 hour store and used precicely 20 bottles of white-out that Patrick had knocking around his room to decorate them to look vaugely similar to marching band uniforms.

It was an admirable effort.

"He's coming, he's coming!" yelled Ray from where he was peaking through the bush, watching the street the Ways lived on.

They all straightened hastily, and Gerard walked to the front.

"You ready?" 

Pete put his foot on the gas, and, with a jerk of the steering wheel, they were around the corner and facing a bemused, tired boy in a band shirt and underpants taking the bins out.

Gerard smiled at his brother and hugged him tight.

"Happy birthday, Mikes. You made it through another year! I'm so damn proud, okay. So damn proud..." he whispered into his brothers hair.

Mikey smiled.

"Now, lord of unicorns. Would you care to join the black parade?"

It was a thing of theirs. One day, after a daytrip to the city, they had developed a theory; a theory that death came to you in the way you found most comforting. 'The black parade theory', they called it.

"You didn't..."

"All of us organised this. For you."

"Oh..." A look of delight spread across the boy's face.

"Just get on the fucking float, cutie," said Pete, leaning out of the window. "No homo or anything," he added as an afterthought.

"Now and forever, we should know Mr. Wentz here as No Homo Pete," declared Joe.

"Hear hear," they all chorused, shaking hands.

-

"Now, great unicorn lord. Your fort."

They had transformed Frank's basement into the ultimate blanket fortress.

"Oh my god," gasped Mikey, hugging the nearest person (who, naturally, happened to be Pete.)

All around him, people began to relax, peeling off their jackets and rubbing off their makeup. (Three sticks of eyeliner grudgingly donated by Pete)

Mikey looked at all they had done. He looked at the blankets, at the half hearted party decorations, at the homemade 'hail the unicorn lord' shirts they had all doned. He smiled, and Gerard, seeing the look of sheer happiness on his brother's face, knew his mission was over, at least for now. 

"Thank you," he whispered, painfully quiet. "Thank you."

-

They got through five movies, two board games and six tables of party food. Gerard had a total of fourteen power naps, had given Mikey his present (a camera, which he was delighted with) and had consumed eleven mugs of coffee. Frank was asleep on his shoulder, Mikey was generally being happy, Ray was still picking leaves out of his 'fro (with a sympathetic Joe's help) and Pete was definatly living up to his nickname.

"How many times ARE you going to say no homo?" sighed Patrick.

"Well, we're all bros, okay," said Pete, "and that's what bros do."

"Somebody ban Pete from the internet," said Mikey, and they all laughed.

This conversation was boring. Brendon was chatting on about nothing, and Gerard felt his eyelids begin to droop.

"Thank you. For all this."

It was his brother, talking to Pete. Gerard decided to leave his powernap for later. Anyway, Frank was stirring.

"You honestly didn't have to," continued Mikey.

"Mikey Way, I sure haven't known you for a long time, but I think I've known you long enough to be able to gauge what kind of person you are. You are, undoubtedly, one of the sweetest and kindest people to walk this earth, and I'm best friends with Patrick Stump." They chuckled. "The point is, you deserve all this. You deserve all this and more, and I hope some day you will realise that."

Hmm. This was getting interesting.

"Pete," said Mikey, whispering the word like a secret.

"Mikey," chuckled Pete.

They had been staring at each other for a long while. Gerard closed his eyes again.

All of a sudden, the chattering stopped. Gerard sighed and opened an eye. What met that reluctant eye nearly made it pop out with suprise.

There was Pete Wentz, who, under a week ago, was nothing but a lonley stranger at the back of the soccer team, enthusiasticly making out with his little brother.

The silence hung over them all like a great cloud of awkwardness, meaning Gerard could hear noises coming from the couple that he would definatly prefer not to hear. It was finally broken by Brendon, who swore and slapped a $20 bill into Patrick's outstretched hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> I was in half a mind on whether to do that but #YOLO


	6. Sailing the big, open blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody is in love, only Brendon can admit it, drama queen he is.

"Hey, Brendon."

Two weeks had passed since Mikey's birthday. It was the end if an exhausting school day and Gerard had just collapsed by the cork tree, waiting for his brother to emerge from the school. Everyone was chatting away animatedly, aside from Brendon, who was gazing into the sky.

"Brendon? Hello? Are you ignoring me?"

"Sorry. I have reasons for gazing into the big, open blue..." he sighed, obviously wanting Gerard to question him.

"The big, open blue is the sea, idiot."

"Yeah, cool, whatever." They sat in silence for a bit.

Gerard sighed. "Okay, why are you staring longingly into the sky?"

"Two reasons."

"And they are...?"

"I'm in love!" he announced dramatically.

"With who?"

Brendon smiled, happily, excitedly. "A guy called Dallon moved next door to me. He goes to the private school on the other side of town."

"Oh. How riveting."

"Remember, dude. The rules. No homo!" chimed in Pete.

"Petey dearest, I'd like to remind you that the day you paid down that rule, you ended up fucking his brother in your friends basement."

Gerard's jaw dropped. "MIKEY!" he yelled.

"You called?" Mikey's head emerged from around the corner.

"Did you have sex with Pete on your birthday?"

"What? No. But if he's offering..." He wiggled his eyebrows at Pete, who blew him a kiss.

Gerard turned to Brendon.

"I was joking."

He sighed.

"Peter Wentz, if you dare lay a finger on my little brother..."

"It's a little late for that," said Pete, giving Mikey a sideways glance.

"Yeah, they're practically joined at the hip."

Gerard sighed, again. "I mean in a metaphorical sense. I'll-"

Joe shoved Pete into Mikey, who caught him and lifted him, bride-style.

"You going to kill him now?"

"Fuck you."

Mikey began to squirm under Pete's weight.

"Fuck you. Fuck you all!"

Pete and Mikey crashed to the floor. 

"Hmm, I'll have to pass, but I think Frank wouldn't mind that one bit." Gerard scowled at Joe's cocky expression, but inside he was squirming.

"That brings me perfectly onto my second point," announced Brendon dramatically. His enthusiasm rivalled even that of Pete's. "I am also somewhat pissed at you, Gerard dearest."

"Only because you lost that bet," snapped Patrick.

"Yes! That is exactly why! If only you had made a move on Frank earlier..."

"I earnt that $20!"

"Wait, what?"

Brendon sighed, irritation imminent on his perfectly formed features. He was admittedly quite good-looking; and didn't he know it.

"What Brendon means is that you should've kissed Frank."

"What? W-why would I want to do that?"

"And I might ask you 'w-why' are you blushing? Surely you don't even have feelings for him, eh?"

Gerard left.

-

He sat on the bank, aggressivly sketching. What he was sketching, he wasn't entirely sure, but he was letting his pencil wonder across the page, in the vague shape of a face. 

He had no idea why he was so angry. Just stress he needed to vent, he figured.

"What yo drawing?"

Gerard nearly had a heart attack as a face appeared from the bush beside him.

"Oh, Pete. It's only you." He went back to his angry drawing.

"Wow, the sense of my importance is soaring right now." Gerard simply glared at him.

"Hey, what did I do wrong? Gerard?"

Gerard sighed. Nobody understood.

Wow, his life was becoming an angsty teen novel.

"Do you have a problem with me...and Mikey?"

Gerard eyed the anxious boy and decided to put the guy out of his misery.

"Normally I would have a ftw problems with somebody sharing spit with my brother, but, to be perfectly honest, if I chose anyone to do it, I trust you the most."

"Me? You trust me?" Pete looked touched.

"Or David Bowie, but I don't want to be jelous of my loser brother."

Pete looked at him strangely. Gerard sighed.

"The point is, I think you're good for Mikey. I can tell that you make him happy, and that's what matters, really."

Pete smiled shyly. 

"Thank you." 

They sat in silence for a while while Pete seemed to regather his thoughts.

"You never answered my question. What are you drawing?"

"None of your business," he snapped, then in a gentler tone "I don't even know, anyway."

Pete glanced over his shoulder quickly. 

"Looks like Frank."

Gerard scowled and looked down at his page. "So it does."

"Don't be so sour about him. I know you like him."

"I don't have a crush on him, Pete?"

"Who said anything about crushes?"

"Fuck you Pete."

Pete laughed while Gerard nearly died of mortification.

"You should make a move. Go for it. YOLO and all that." Pete left.

Gerard cursed. He didn't like Frank Iero. Not at all. Completely platonic. He didn't have a crush. He didn't. He didn't. 

Okay, maybe he had a little, tiny mini crush. Just a few feelings. Nothing that wouldn't pass in a couple of days.

Who was he kidding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY GERARD ADMITS HIS UNDENIABLE, UNFALTERING LOVE FOR FRANK IERO
> 
> Hey there just want to thank y'all for reading you're all increadible :)
> 
> This may be the last chapter for a week or so, as I'm going to Germany and I'm not taking my phone or anything so I cant write or post, which sucks balls, but hey. I'm probably gonna spend today writing and stuff. And I'm sorry I haven't been updating recently, i've been really busy; I spend seven hours rehersing for the productions I'm in and the one I'm doing in my theatre group (its basically about saving rock and roll yet doesn't have a single song from that album) hasn't even begun the long rehersals yet ah but updates should be more frequent and something big'll happen in the next chapter. Probably.
> 
> Once again, thank you!
> 
> -Emma


	7. mikeyway and the coping saw analogy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who thought chapter summarys were a good idea seriously I'm too damn lazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a panic attack in case that is triggering or something

"Frank, huh?"

Gerard glared at his brother the moment he opened the door.

"According to the whole world, yes," he scowled.

"You like him?"

'No."

"You like him?!"

"NO!"

"You like him."

"Nope,"

"You like him!"

"No I don't!" 

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Gerard Arthur Way, do you have feelings for Frank?"

The middle name card. Mikey was practically his mother.

He was silent.

"Gerard?"

"Maaaaybe..."

"I knew it!"

Gerard frowned, irritated. "Why did you ask then?"

"For this tape recorder in my pocket, obviously." Mikey shrugged.

"What?" Gerard pinned his brother to the wall.

"I'm kidding!" yelled Mikey, sounding slightly strangled from Gerard's arm pressed around his throat.

"You better be kidding."

Mikey sighed with relief as Gerard released his grip.

"You should make a move or something. He likes you. You like him. You're a wonderful person. It'll work."

Gerard stared, running a hand through his greasy, thin hair. 

"I came up with the perfect analogy for this in school today. You know the smallish coping saws they have in tech?"

He didn't, but nodded.

"Well, if you get stuck, you can't force it out, as it'll break. You just have to keep going and it'll take you on it's own path. That's you're life."

"Nice analogy."

"Thanks. Oh, and the faster you go, the hotter it gets."

 

-

Gerard, for once, was feeling quite cheerful.

He blamed it on Frank. Frank, with his irritating smirk. Frank, with his gleaming, beautiful eyes. Frank, with the irritating way his hair flicked up around his gorgeous face. Frank. Only Frank.

Anybody who has ever had a crush will realise the surrealness of coming to terms with it. When you've been denying the existence of those feelings, letting them wash over you is a perfect blend of refreshing and terrifying. 

What even was the point of admitting it? pondered Gerard. Unless you are a preteen girl who needs some loser to gossip about, there really wasn't much point having a so-called 'crush'. Gerard didn't even know what he felt for Frank yet; he just knew it wasn't ordinary. He was like someone confused about their gender, being pinned down as, say, a transgender boy. He didn't want whatever this was to be pinned down as something immediately before he had decided. Maybe he would figure out these feelings, maybe he wouldn't, but he was happy to float in the middle for now.

Another thing that concerned him was how obvious he was being about it. Michael Way, the most clueless, oblivious person to walk this planet when it came to human emotions, had suspected his feelings. Fact was, Frank probably knew. Frank knew that he liked him.

Why did he even like Frank? Truth be told, he had no clue. Frank was just one of those people who had the incredible ability to make Gerard smile.

Wait, so he couldn't even justify his feelings. That definatly didn't make them valid. He was just desperate for a label for these emotions, desperate for a little clarity in his tangled mess of a life.

Innocent until proven guilty. He didn't have a crush. He couldn't. 

Happy with this flat out denial, he turned back to the conversation his friends were having; something about the electrical properties of potatoes? Gerard vaguely recalled some potato-related experiment in his physics class along the same lines.

Wait. Did he just refer to him as his friends? Friends, the very thing that confused Gerard? Friendship?

Were they his friends?

His upcoming mental monologue was interupted by the arrival of Pete, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, twisted anxiety and concern playing across his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Patrick, suddenly very solemn.

Pete turned his worried eyes to Gerard. They weren't sparkling; they were dark and harrowed.

"The rest of the soccer team has figured out that it was Frank who was hiding in the cuboard that one time. Frank, Gerard...with more time I would be able to calm them down, but I can't. They're seething. They're out for blood." 

Frank and Gerard sat there, mouths agape.

"I've got Bob to try and slow them down but...you need to go. Now."

"What do you mean?"

Pete's urgent eyes flicked towards Frank. "Ditch school. You gotta go. Now. Run!"

That, although he didn't suspect it at the time, was the moment everything changed.

-

They had just reached the outskirts of town when Gerard slowed to a jog, leaning against a nearby building to catch his breath. Frank plonked to the ground near his feet.

It took the older boy a few minutes to realise that Frank's breath was not calming.

Frantic, he kneeled next to his friend, feeling about for a pulse. His heart was racing.

Panic attack, said a little voice inside Gerard's brain.

That nearly sent Gerard into a spiraling, white void of sheer panic.

He didn't know what to do.

Damn school. Instead of teaching you about fast food and cigarettes that can cut your life short, why not teach about why people want to cut their life short? 

Frank smokes, said another voice in his head.

What Gerard would give to be able to understand what was fucked up about himself. What he would give to know how to care for others properly. What he would give to care for Frank.

He looked at the helpless boy. Tears were running down his face.

"Frank. Frank, listen to me. It's me, Gerard. I promise I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to put my hand in yours. Is that okay?"

He heard no protest, so proceeded.

"Now, Frank, I'm going to squeeze your hand, gently. I want you to feel this squeeze and try and squeeze back."

He felt no squeeze back and took a shaky breath. This was serious.

"Okay, Frank. I now want you to breathe in and out when I tell you, okay? Now. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. At the same time, I'll be squeezing your hand, and I would like you to try and squeeze back again. Okay? Now in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

Gerard squeezed at every requested breath, slipping into an easy rhythm. He felt his other hand shaking.

No. He couldn't freak out. Frank needed him.

Frank needed him.

After what felt like a lifetime, Frank calmed down, breathing shakily and giving feeble squeezes.

He collapsed, hiccuping, into Gerard's open arms, sobbing his sorry heart out. Gerard traced circles om his back, tears of bottled up worry creating racing tracks down his face.

"It's all okay, sweetheart. It's all okay."

Frank slid out of the warm arms to face Gerard.

"It's not okay, though, is it? I'm fucked up and I've put you in danger and it's all my fault, it's all my fault!"

"No! Frankie! It's not your fault!"

"It is!"

"No! You can't cortrol it, it's a mental disorder, and it's not your fault! It's okay! I understand!"

"You don't understand." His voice was painfully quiet. "You'll never understand. It's all my fault. I'm...I'm a monster."

"Frank! Yo-"

"I'm a monster! Stay away from me!"

"No, Frank! Wait!"

"A monster." 

Before he knew it, Frank was storming past, and all Gerard could do was watch him run away with his vision blurred with anguish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA sorry
> 
> Thank you bunch a satanists for that 666 hits 
> 
> Yeah imma back from Germany it was rad I got eaten alive by mosquitoes and then listened to fall out boy for literally a day the journey was looooong  
> And I had this massive rant to my friend about how I am petekey trash but love kristin colby and she is perfect for Mikey seriously he's never been so happy he's been through some serious shit but now every selfie he smiles and they're adorable BUT PETE MISSES HIM AND STILL WRITES SONGS LIKE THE FOURTH OF JULY AND HE'S NOT HAPPY BUT FOR ONCE MIKEY DOESN'T NEED HIM AND I AM SPIRALLING INTO A VOID OF TEARS HERE thanks that is all it was nessessary don't worry


	8. A white prep school girl drinks Starbucks while gazing fondly at her punk boyfriend daddy doesn't approve of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really need a chapter summary? That name was worthy of a fall out boy song 
> 
> Anyway warning: gee talks a lot about depression in this chapter, please don't read if you think it might affect you
> 
> I actually cried while writing this but only because I had hayfever not because I actually have a heart of something lol

Gerard sat in a table in the corner of Starbucks, staring into space as his confidence, self esteem and assurance crumbled into dust.

It was crazy, really. All that depended on tiny things. With depression, something tiny would happen and, immediately, everything you had carefully build was gone as you slowly fell into peices and sank back into that chasm you're trying to avoid.

Overdramatic, his mom had said, before he was actually diagnosed.

Now here he was, building this fragile bridge over the great black hole, pretending desperately that it didn't exist, trying to not get sucked in, trying to build an excuse for a life over the fragile surface. Every so often, the surface would dip a little and the ever-present depression would wash over him like a fucking black lake, but, aside from that, he could almost cope. But now there had been a bump to the bridge and he was drowning in that pool.

Back to tears. Back to numbness. Back to caring too much and not at all, all at once. Back to lying on his bed, wanting to die.

Wonderful.

The words rang through his head, painful, tolling, altered by his twisted brain. 'I'm a monster'; Gerard was a monster. 'You don't understand'; Gerard was stupid and didn't deserve Frank. 'Stay away from me'; Frank hated him.

Frank hated him. 

Funny, really. He never realised he cared enough to let Frank do this to him. To call himself a monster when Gerard was far beyond. To crush any self esteem he had.

To let Gerard worry his head off yet wish he didn't care. To let Gerard be torn apart. 

-

Gerard was having serious mood swings. Honestly, he blamed the coffee.

He had taken one sip of his skinny latte with extra cream and soy milk (he was as white girl as a skinny, gay, teen boy would get) and felt so much better. He could make it without Frank. He could try. 

That went out of the window as Frank himself approached his table hesitantly.

Frank hated him. Frank hated him.

"Gerard...I..."

Frank hated him. 

"You're safe, I see," Gerard grunted, his tone neutral and guarded.

"Yeah. Sorry for...for worrying you."

He didn't mean it. Frank hated him.

Hated him.

Hated him.

Frank hated him.

"I get it, don't worry."

Frank looked confused. "Get what?"

Frank hated him.

"You hate me. It's okay."

"What? I don't-"

"Look, why don't you just leave me alone?" Gerard snapped.

"I-"

Frank hated him.

"Look, Frank, I get it, you can fuck off now." Frank jumped as Gerard's voice gradually got louder.

Gerard was trembling, but from grief, not rage.

Frank hated him.

Frank hated him.

He felt sick.

Frank hated him.

He had to get out of there. He couldn't stand it.

For the second time that day, a boy watched the other leave through a blurred vision.

But it couldn't be true.

Frank. Frank. Frank.

Frank hated him. 

-

Gerard cried.

Tears were the strangest thing. Rivers of heartbreak flowing from your eyes, clearing your head and soothing your flesh as you finally let out all the emotion. Sometimes, all the fatigue and weariness and general sadness took its toll, and the only known cure, though temporary, was a good weep.

Temporary, whispered that voice inside his head, that little being of twisted evil, that cruel snake that was wrapping its ruthless self around his heart and squeezing.

Everything is temporary, said the demon.

You are worthless, hissed the horrible parasite sucking the life out of him.

Then it hit him. He knew what those things were. He knew who was telling him all those awful things. He knew the owner of the twisted voice.

Frank hates you, he told himself. 

It was him. He was that being of evil he always imagained.

"Gerard, we gotta go to sch- ate you okay?"

Gerard nodded, although he was making every liars first mistake.

He didn't belive it in the slightest.

-

"Gerard, is everything alright? I...I know it's not any of my business, but I just...wanted to...I don't know. You seem off."

Gerard looked up to see a large afro looming above his sketchbook. He looked up at its owner.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ray." He went back to his drawing.

"I..." He trailed off. "Really?"

Gerard said nothing.

"Gerard, I know I don't know you very well, but...I'm not interested in why. I just want you to know...it gets better. It gets better, remember that."

Frank hated him.

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"I do. My....actually, never mind. You wouldn't care."

"Try me."

"Gerard..."

"I know this is totally killing my punk rock vibes, but I'll care. I'll care if you need me to."

Ray gave a small smile and sat at Gerard's side, gentle, timid. Gerard decided he liked Ray. He was almost as shy as Mikey, but clearly had a wonderful heart.

They sat in silence for a small while. 

Ray seemed to eventually gather up some courage.

"My dad left a few years back and...I went through a fair bit of shit, ya know? It wasn't fun."

Gerard caught Ray's eye and gave him a hesitant smile.

"I've gotta go now. Just...stay strong. Don't let it control you. Oh, and Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let your friendship with Frank fall apart. Talk to him, yeah?"

With that hanging in the air, Gerard was left alone.

He shouldn't let it take control. 

He shouldn't let it take control.

Stay strong. Control. Control.

Frank.

He had to hold on for Frank.

Monster.

Frank thought he was a monster.

A monster.

And where did that leave Gerard?

Everything was a mess, but Gerard was sure of one thing.

Frank hated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup dawgs its me birthday  
> (my dad got me tickets to see fall out boyyyyy)


	9. I don't care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bitches

"Frank..."

The boy with the long, greasy hair crept up to his former friend, heart racing. It felt like every part of his body was exploding with care, with a devastating need to check the smaller boy's well-being, and to fix all he had done.

The boy with the greasy hair felt like a loser, through and through. He felt like a hopeless cling on, an awkward, nerdy teenager who clung onto the other boy, desperate for another chance, desperate for something. He felt as if the smaller boy, who was the definition of perfection compared to him, hated him, despised his company,and thought him worthless.

But it was too late now, too late for the boy with the greasy hair. He may try any respect or tolerance the younger boy had for him, but it was worth it. To be near him. To try and fix everything. For everything to restore itself, to reach some fragile ghost of an equilibrium.

The boy with the greasy hair was wrong about two things. One; things wouldn't even ghost the world he longed for, or restore themselves. Two; he wasn't a clingy loser. Be wasn't pushing buttons. Quite the opposite.

The smaller boy didn't see right through him, didn't hate him. Far from it. Maybe one day they would be able to see the quiet echo of feelings, the sensitive attraction they shared.

Or maybe Gerard would never understand how much he meant to Frank Iero. It depended how much longer they could both hold on.

-

"Gerard." Frank's tone lacked emotion, lacked surprise. 

He did hate Gerard.

"I just..." A thought crossed his mind, silencing the hesitant attempt of communication Ray had pushed him into.

What if it was worse than that? What if instead of hate, instead of emotion, Frank just felt indifference?

What if he was never even worth Frank's time?

"Can we move on?" said Frank suddenly.

"What?"

 

"Can we please just forget about all this? Can we move on and pretend what happened; whatever it was; didn't happen? I just...I'm a complete mess of emotions right now, but I think I remember one thing; I like you, Gerard. You're a good friend, and I don't want to argue with you. You are important, and I defiantly don't hate you."

Gerard closed his eyes and tried desperately to believe him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But, I think we need to talk."

Gerard visibly gulped.

"Fire away," he said, voice an octave higher than usual.

"I think we don't really know what's going on between us. Like, I think you're good, and stuff, but...I don't k ow how I feel about you, and it's scary, and I'm struggling, and you haven't even seen me at my weakest, like, I'm struggling...and truth be told, I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"Living." Gerard took a sharp breath.

"Frank..."

"See? See?" Frank laughed through the sobs that were choking his speech. "I'm messed up. I told you. I'm a monster, and I have to protect you. I'm fucked up, Gee. Royally fucked up." He took a shaking breath.

Gerard longed to hug him, to hold him, to kiss away the tears, to love away the pain. But he knew he couldn't. He knew he had to do what Frank wanted.

Maybe Frank didn't hate him after all.

"Listen, Frank, I understand. I know last time I said that I got it a bit wrong, but I understand. Believe me, I know how you're feeling, and I wish I could make you understand that you dont need to protect me, I'm decently fucked up also. But I know how you feel; friendship is responsibility, and responsibility is caring and effort and hardship. I've seen how you sacrifice the world for the people you care about, and that is the most dangerous thing. So, for your mental health, maybe we should...I don't know...part ways. End it. End...this."

The situation was getting scarily high school musical.

"Thank you, Gerard. Thank you so much."

Gerard picked up his bag.

"Wait!"

He turned back.

"This is just temporary. Right? I mean, we can try again, someday. With friendship, I mean."

Gerard nodded, fighting the battle of his life with his tear ducts. 

"Always." 

Stay dry, eyes, stay dry.

He turned away once more, heavy hearted.

All of a sudden, Frank ran after him, tripping over tree roots. Desperatly, the shorter boy turned Gerard to face him.

"Gerard..."

Gerard looked deep into those brownish, twinkling eyes, into the warmth that snuck through the shadows, into the pure emotion painted plainly on them. He looked.

Then Frank had cupped his cheek, and they were kissing, their lips were colliding, dancing a frantic dance, a dance of emotions and confusion and need, of bottled up emotion and not caring.

But the thing about not caring, is that the relief never lasts for long. You throw all caution to the winds and kiss your best friend back, because teen love trumps everything, surely? But then he's pulling away after a second and apologizing, your crying and trying to pull him back, he's crying and stumbling away, away, away from you and you remember your broken promises and your vow to stop, but you don't care, this not caring has taken over, and you want him back and you don't care, you don't care.

Gerard decided to stop caring, to let out his emotion, and before he knew it, he was lent against the foot of a tree, tears running down his face. Because he's falling, falling for a boy he just vowed to stay away from, falling for a boy who's insisted he's nothing but trouble, falling for a boy he shouldn't be, and this is all a mess and he shouldn't be falling but he is, he's falling, falling for Frank.

That was the moment Gerard Way realised he was fucked. And that was the moment he realised he didn't care.

He didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sorry I was gone so long I was super busy and it was kind of stressful and i broke my phone which i usually write this on which sucked  
> Anyway I'm back now, thank y'all for reading and commenting and everything it honestly means so much, and thank you for putting up with your idiot author   
> -Emma x


	10. In which Gerard Way's life is more similar to the lion king than you may think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is Simba, his art teacher is Rafiki, and mikeyway is rather oblivious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, I am sorry.

Exactly a month had passed since Gerard Way stopped caring. A life without care, without pain. A life without emotion.   
A life without Frank Iero. At least, until today.

It was some twisted, fucked up version of the lion king. He was Simba and he had no worries. He didn't care and wondered around life, minding his own bloody business, when some asshat lioness came along and changes everything, making him face his past and REGRET things.

But he didn't care, did he? He didn't care.

Miss Ballato just HAD to come and ruin his oasis, his tranquil, blissful paradise of not giving a flying fuck about anything. She just HAD to set up a partner art project. She just HAD to select pairs.

She just had to pair him up with Frank I-Fuckin-Ero.

Wonderful.

-

"Lets just get this over and done with."

Gerard started the conversation rather abruptly, but he didn't care.

He didn't care. He didn't care. He couldn't care. Caring is dangerous. 

Frank said nothing.

"Okay, I know we're on pretty...unusual terms but it would help a lot if you actually talked to me." Gerard grunted.

"I...sorry..." 

The taller boy looked up for the first time. Frank was sitting, slightly slumped, studying his worn boots as he gnawed on his lip ring.

Gerard looked at the boy, the boy he kissed, the boy he left, the boy he shut out, the boy he was falling for.

Was. Before he let go of his emotions, before he started the Frank-less life.

Reality was, he did care. He cared to much, way too much. He cared about the feelings and health of this small, vaguely punk rock loser than anything in his life, and he had plenty of things he could be caring about. 

If he didn't care, then why did he lose Frank just to make him happy?

He couldn't care. Or, at least, he couldn't let anybody see him care.

"Can we just...forget?"

Frank met Gerard's eyes as words started tumbling out of the smaller boys mouth.

"Like, I get that things are complicated between us. I don't really know what...what we had, but, maybe, we should, I don't know, pretend it didn't happen." Frank was stammering. "And you know what I'm referring to."

Gerard nodded silently. 

"Now come on. I want to do well in this project too." Frank's tone was harsh, but his eyes were soft with the timid caring Gerard had missed. 

God,how he had he missed it all. How he had missed Frank.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Gerard asked tentatively.

Frank grinned, and mimed dipping a hat.

"Now don't ya worry that pretty lil head about me, Madame," he drawled.

"I'm not going to mention the lack of...ahem...quality in that accent, because we might be here for a while."

They laughed unsurely, and Gerard felt a warmth inside of him that felt a scary lot like caring.

-

Mikey looked up the moment Gerard arrived at there meeting place.

"What's wrong, Gerard?"

Gerard sighed.

"You look pretty...conflicted..." Mikey prompted, faced with silence. 

"What? Oh, its nothing." Gerard's voice was a little too high.

"Spill."

"What are you talking about?" He coughed.

"Just tell me."

"How did you know something happened?"

"I'm your brother." Mikey tried to toss his hair smugly, but only succeeded in making it look even more windswept. "I know everything."

"But...no offence Mikey, but you're normally pretty...oblivious." Gerard sighed again.

"Huh?"

"Like, you're the most oblivious person to walk this earth."

"You must be incredibly obvious about it, then. Now: what happened with Frank?"

"Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I noticed this had 1000 hits this morning.
> 
> Like that's 1000 people who read/accidently clicked on my lil fic about lil gay dudes that's insane thank you all so much


	11. We're screwed, lets drink jasmine tea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brendon urie is very important and must be protected from the evils of this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My phone somehow double spaced this all and I'm too lazy to correct it so you'll have to deal with it. Looks quite pretty tho so

Gerard woke in the middle of the night to an obnoxious ringing noise. He dove under the covers, desperately trying to ignore it, but to no avail.

 

Grumbling, he rolled out of bed to hunt down the culprit. He heard a loud thud as he tossed away the covers.

 

Of course. His phone. 

 

He glared at the caller ID. Brendon. Well, he was awake now. 

 

"What the fuck do you want?"

 

"Gerard!" Brendon hissed over the phone, relief imminent in his voice. "Gerard, I...I need your help."

 

Gerard softened his voice. "What happened?"

 

"You know Adam? Burly dude, soccer team, idiot?"

 

"Unfortunately." He didn't like where this was going.

 

"Well, he's started this...I don't even know what, but its sort of like this grand, elaborate scheme to make our lives a misery. Bob told me this isn't it, basically; he's planning all this shit." Brendon made a throaty noise which sounded an awful lot like a whimper.

 

"Brendon...Brendon, what did he do?"

 

Brendon sniffed. "Well, Dallon, the guy I was talking about, was having dinner at my house-"

 

"The one you're madly in love with?"

 

"That's the one. Anyway, somehow, Adam got this picture of Mikey and Pete to my parents. My mom knows Pete, we've been friends for a while, and him and Mikey were, like, doing coupley shit. And they saw it, and..."

 

"Go on," Gerard prompted gently.

 

"My parents are painfully homophobic. They saw it and freaked. My dad always said Pete was a bad example, and so has now forbidden me from being friends with him. Then...well, I got mad, so I stormed off to my room. My...well, my mom and dad never really actually come into my room, I guess because, uh, they don't really...care, so I have all this shit around my room. My dad came in after me, and he found my eyeliner." Sobs began to break through Brendon's speech. "H...he got so mad, he hit me, he yelled, h...he called me a faggot a-and stuff, a-and I wasn't thinking, I-I didn't th-think it would matter, b-but..." Brendon trailed off, and Gerard listened to the crackling of the line and the distant sound of honking cars from the phone. "....B-but I just stood up and said...and said, 'would it matter if I was? If I was gay?' And he started yelling again, and I didn't know what to do, and I wasn't thinking, and I...i kissed Dallon. On the lips. Right in front of them all."

 

Gerard raised his eyebrows, before remembering Brendon couldn't actually see him.

 

"As you can imagine, they didn't take it well. They kicked out Dallon, who's now locked inside his house in tons of trouble, and my dad started hitting me and yelling and throwing things, so...I ran."

 

And that's how Gerard ended up making tea for Brendon Urie while he was busy freaking out on his couch at two am.

 

"What the fuck?" Gerard turned around to face a disgruntled Mikey, who was wearing the exact same band shirt he had been on his birthday surprise.

 

"Do you ever change pyjamas?"

 

Mikey shrugged, running a hand through his bedhead. His bedhead that looked uncannily similar to his normal hairstyle. 

 

Gerard sighed and explained everything.

 

"Oh, man. That sucks balls. What did he mean by Adams plot thing?"

 

"The end is nigh," said Brendon, poking his head around the doorframe. "Do you have any jasmine tea?" 

 

-

 

Things really sucked. 

 

Brendon Urie was curled up on his sofa, back at his and Mikey's house, after having vomited twice from sheer anxiety. Patrick Stump was missing in action, Ray Toro was squirreled away in the library on a last minute essay mission, Pete Wentz was all clammed up about something, Andy Hurley was trying to get the attention of Joe on another table, his brother had passed out on his pizza, the imminent threat of Adams fucking plan was looming, and he had art next period.

 

Which, normally, would be a complete relief, but with Frank? He knew what Frank did to him, and he wanted to avoid that. He wanted to shut himself off and forget anything happened, and go back to his happy world of pretending not to care.

 

What he would give to go back to that. Probably wasn't good for him, but hakuna fucking matata.

 

-

 

"So. What art medium do you like?"

 

Gerard desperately tried to keep his tone deadpan. He refused to reveal any emotion. Conceal, don't feel.

 

Huh. Those Disney marathons sure came in handy. 

 

"Um...?" Just that word made Gerard want to forget it all and do something stupid, something like showing emotion. Wow, he really felt like a teenaged girl, going through a setback at the sound of her exes voice. 

 

"Don't tell me you're some idiot who took art as an easy course." The bitterness from past experiences with such people was really sinking through, he noted.

 

"Nah, you artistic snob. I just don't know. I like acrylic, I guess?" 

 

Gerard was slightly taken aback by the nonchalant tone, so tried to echo it. 

 

"Rad."

 

"And you?" 

 

"I just like sketching."

 

"Rad," Frank imitated, drawing a slight smile from the taller boy. 

 

They sat like that for a while. Nothing but silence and mulling over thoughts. 

 

Gerard finally built up the courage to break it.

 

"Do you have any art styles you like or particular ideas?"

 

"Um..." Frank suddenly seemed to find his scuffed boots the most fascinating thing in the world.

 

"Frank?" Gerard sighed. 

 

"I...not really...?"

 

"Frank."

 

"Well, I...its kinda lame."

 

"Just tell me, Frank, for fucks sake." Gerard sighed again.

 

"I've.." He looked up at Gerard shyly from behind long eyelashes, and the taller had to remind himself not to care, not to feel. "I've always been fascinated by tattoos. Like, body art, and stuff? It probably doesn't count, but...yeah." 

 

"Wow. Do you want to get tattoos when you're older?"

 

Frank looked at the ground again. "I already have some."

 

Gerard struggled to contain his gasp. "How? You look about twelve."

 

"A story for another time, Gerard dearest." Gerard scoffed at that. 

 

"I would get tattoos, but I'm deathly afraid of needles." Gerard visibly shuddered.

 

"Yeah." Once more, the silence descended.

 

"I have an idea!" Gerard announced after a few minutes of being slightly unnerved by Frank's staring.

 

"Rad." He seemed slightly unimpressed, while Gerard was bursting with excitement.

 

"Okay, I like comics. Like, a lot. And I like comic book style drawing. You like the style of body art. How about we combine the two, and do this sorta comic with a guy and his tattoos?" Gerard was bouncing by this point. "The tattoos could sort of reflect his journey. I'm thinking like, massive pages and close ups and detail..."

 

"So like, a bit like that film, where the guys tattoos come to life and tell stories?" 

 

"Yeah, that film! What's it called again?"

 

Frank shrugged. "Beats me."

 

"Okay class, brainstorming over. I'm afraid you'll have to do the rest at home."

 

Gerard jumped at Miss Ballato's voice. He had forgotten, for a moment.

 

This was a group project. A group project he was with Frank for. A group project, which you have to complete together, at each others houses. Alone. A group project that squished his nice little not caring plan.

 

Once again, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the title of that movie? I cant remember damn


	12. Shitty people, shitty world, shitty shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....what happened to the actual saint, to the purest man in the universe, to my adorable lil punk rock fedora clad peach son, Patrick Stump.  
>  Okay I love Patrick almost as much as I love Mikey Way, and I love Mikey Way A LOT. This was ever so slightly upsetting to write, but everything'll be fine. He's a tuff cookie.  
> T.W: Mentions of self harm and anorexia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this has been getting more angsty than I intended, and a lot of triggers are popping up. It'll die down soon, I promise, but please pay attention to trigger warnings because they are a lot more important than you might think. If you don't want to read a chapter because it may be triggering for you, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't read it, just ask me in the comments on any chapter and I will happily summarize the chapter and try and reduce the mentions in the fic. Take care, broski.

Gerard saw it like a predator/prey situation. They were some angsty, misfitting, teenage flock of birds and slowly, one by one, they were being picked 

off. 

By who, he couldn't decide. Offhandedly, the jocks were to blame, but it almost felt like God was watching their flock crumble from the inside.

It was terrifying.

And it wouldn't stop. Because that was the day Gerard found out about Patrick.

-

"Where's Pete? He was here this morning..."

It was lunch break and the group of them were huddled in the cafeteria, avoiding the harsh autumn winds.

Gerard looked up at Ray's voice. The four of them; Ray, Andy, Mikey and himself; hadn't spoken a word, and Gerard had been absorbed in a pastel drawing he was working on. Brendon was still wangling prolonged sleepovers off various friends while he sorted out his mess (gaining him several days off school) and, uncharacteristically, Gerard was worried about him. He was still closeted, when it came to his parents, but his grandma, Mikey and the people he hung out with knew, so it didn't really matter. Besides, everyone in his school seemed to have some inner gaydar or something, from the sheer amount of homophobic slurs he was subjected to in this hellhole. 

"I'm kind of worried." Mikey didn't even look up from his sandwich.

"I can see that," teased Ray, but his heart wasn't into it.

They slipped back into the relaxing silence, while Gerard attempted furiously to blend oil pastels.

"You alright there, Gee?" His brother raised an eyebrow. Gerard threw a pastel at his nose. He caught it and silence resumed.

"And Patrick's been ill for a while. And poor Brendon." Ray broke the silence after a small while. 

Gerard grunted. He wanted to finish this drawing.

All at once, everything happened.

A smallish guy rushed up to them, a frantic expression on his face. Gerard recognised him from his music class; he had an extremely enduring smile. Spencer, was it?

"You need to come to the office, quick. It's...its Pete..."

Looks like the soccer team cult had struck again.

-

Honestly, Gerard was expecting worse.

He thought Pete was dying, or bleeding through the floor, or something dramatic. In reality, there wasn't a mark on his skin.

Well, that was a lie. Gerard could still see the tear tracks down his cheek, temporary stains of pain decorating the short boy's skin. Gerard could also see the rolled up sleeve, the wrists littered with messy, faded scars, a constant reminder for poor Pete.

Pete had rolled up his sleeves, because he didn't care.

That was the scariest part of the image in front of him. Plain in Pete's eyes was this desperation, this pain, this exhaustion. Pete had had enough. Pete didn't want to hurt anymore. Pete didn't care what the world threw at him, what people thought, in ways Gerard could never reach, nor begin to understand.

It was terrifying, and suddenly Gerard didn't think caring was so bad after all.

It was clear he wasn't the only one who saw the pain in Pete's eyes. Mikey immediately rushed forwards, and Pete's eyes became slightly less empty. 

"Mikey," he whispered, gentle.

"Pete," Mikey replied, and it was just like the moment on Mikey's birthday, only with less kissing and more pain.

Mikey and Pete just embraced for a while, actions yelling what the words didn't have to. They could all see the care, and the empathy, and the worry. They could all see how much Pete mattered to Mikey.

"What happened?" Mikey whispered after a long time.

Pete sniffed. "It-its Patrick. He's in....h-he's in hospital." 

Mikey enveloped Pete into another bone-crushing hug.

"I guess I owe you all an explanation." Pete almost chuckled. "Well, Patrick does, but he...h-he- I guess I'm just bloody Hermes, then."

They looked at him blankly. 

"Hermes? Greek god of messengers? No? Honestly. Teenagers these days." Pete was trying to keep his tone light-hearted, but it wasn't working. "Gather round, everyone."

They obeyed. Gerard hadn't realised he had been frozen in the doorframe.

"Well...Patrick has th-this...thing. Aside from his family, I'm the only one who knows about i-it. I guess..." Pete had to clasp his hands together to stop them shaking. "I-I guess...he didn't want people to know. H-he wanted to pretend t-that it didn't exist, t-to forget, a-and I...it was a s-sensitive topic. B-but y-you have a right to know. S-so I'll j-just tell you."

Pete breathed.

"Patrick...Patrick's in hospital because he has anorexia."

Pete carried on talking before any of them could react.

"H-he...I mean, he's had it...for a while, he's always been self conscious of his weight, and, well, over the summer he was fine, and I thought it was all okay, I wasn't looking out for the signs, but he relapsed, badly, he got hospitalized, and he's really weak, he's in danger, and-"

"Pete. Breathe." His brother looked at his boyfriend with a furried brow. 

"You don't understand!" Pete's voice was breaking with greif. "Its my fault," he croaked.

Mikey quietly protested, suffocating Pete in another hug, but it was all drowned out by Pete's heart-wrenching sobs.

-

That is how Gerard found himself in a hospital waiting room, feeling like he was about to vomit.

He barely knew Patrick. He had met him just a month ago.

But, for starters, Gerard had bad experiences with hospitals, but it wasn't just that. They were like a second family.

Everyone in the waiting room was like a family to him. Even that Joe kid he had spoken to like once. Even Frank.

To be frank, (no pun intended) Gerard had never been good with people. Quite the contrary. Mikey was about the only person he trusted, and he trusted Mikey with his life. It was impossible to put into words how much the younger Way brother meant to him, and he couldn't even imagine giving a thousandth of that care to anyone else. 

But here he was. With people he barely knew, and he felt at home.

Gerard didn't believe in fate, or destiny, but this was improbable. It was impossible that he had found people he, by some miracle, actually felt something towards. It was a rare feeling. Was that true friendship?

Did he have friends?

It felt like something out of a comic. All of them had been brought together by chance, misfits, empty people, broken people, sad people. Now they had to save the world or something.

Gerard happily archived that idea in his brain, and went back to the important job of worrying about Patrick.

It was really shitty. It was shitty how peoples harsh words attacked him so much that he ended up trying to destroy himself. Obviously, there were medical elements, but this boiled down to the shitty people of this shitty world. Shitty shit.

NOBODY deserved to be trapped in the trap of self loathing, of self destruction. And, he realised, in that moment, 'nobody deserved' included himself. 

Gerard sighed. He cared. He cared too much.

Over that month, he had gotten caught up in the whole 'not caring' shit. He had been desperate to forget, so shut off his emotions, destroying himself.

And if Patrick didnt deserve it, then why did he think he did? (aside from the fact that Patrick Stump is probably an angel. Or a saint. Or God. Or all three.)

Emotions were important. So when Frank sat down tentatively beside him, he decided to feel again.

He had to get rid of this tangled mess of 'not caring'. He wanted the past back, frankly. (again, pun not intended. The name Frank just caused so much accidental wordplay. Honestly)

He wanted the past where Mikey was head over heels for a human puppy, not a broken little boy. He wanted the past where Patrick smiled from beneath his hat and made dumb bets with Brendon instead of lying, frail, in a hospital bed. He wanted the past where Brendon would proclaim true love to new people each day, instead of crying himself to sleep because his parents wouldn't accept who he actually chose to love. He wanted the past where Joe and Ray would share hair tips instead of tears, where Andy would be a bouncy vegan kitten instead of a sad vegan kitten, where Mikey would smile to himself everyday, where the Ryan kid would do whatever the fuck he normally did, where everything was okay. 

He wanted the past where Frank mattered.

Gerard had made his decision. They were his friends. He cared. He cared so much. And everything would be okay, in the end. Because society sucked, it could change and bend people, it could destroy people. It hurt less if you didn't care, but Gerard was sick of hiding his emotions, of taking the easy route, of bending to its cruel rules, of pretending.

It hurt less if you didn't care, but it was too late.

Gerard Way turned to Frank and smiled, ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Ray Toro 100 kudos omg omg omg thank you nerds I love each and every one of you so much I am literally squealing thank youuuu


	13. My Little Pony is deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moikael james way says that you should read the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is dedicated to Skitch (I would make that into a link but I'm lame and don't know how) for not only reading and commenting since the start but for being an amazing friend and all round brilliant thank you so much

Gerard cleared his throat.

He had just spent twenty minutes freaking out behind a tree about possibly speaking to Frank, while Mikey half-heartedly sympathized. 

Mikey's idea of sympathy was somewhat...original. It involved rolling his eyes excessively and several sarcastic comments, because Michael James Way was 1000% done with Gerard, and Gerard knew it.

Come on Gerard, he thought. Your not proposing to him. Get your shit together.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the thousands of eyes on him.

Well, not quite thousands. The three pairs of eyes on him.

Okay, so Frank's friends were probably judging him.

But this was it. He didn't care that people could see he cared anymore.

His mouth was dry.

"Frank?"

Frank smiled at him gently.

"Sorry. I just thought we should talk about the art project. And everything's been pretty hard recently so I thought...we should just do it as soon as possible...in case..." He swallowed hard.

"Sure. Should we meet up at my house?"

"That sounds good. This afternoon?"

"Yeah. I have, like, a ton of art supplies."

"Cool."

"Okay. See ya, then." He walked off, cursing his awkward existence.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Gerard glared at his brother.

"Fuck it. I'm gonna go find Pete." With a final eye roll, his brother was gone.

-

"So, I have an idea," he announced as soon as Frank approached him.

"Okay, you gonna tell me?"

Gerard laughed. "No. We need to discuss it properly."

"Fine." Frank was smirking.

There was a silence. Gerard, generally, didn't mind silence. He was painfully introverted, and the only reason he actually spoke to people he was with was so they didn't feel awkward themselves. Truth be told, the only person he actually enjoyed talking to was Mikey. And, before everything happened, Frank.

"How are you?" He said eventually.

"Do you want the honest answer or expected answer? Because, shit." Frank laughed dryly.

Gerard felt a surge of confidence, despite the conversation topic. "Is that the honest or expected answer?"

Frank shrugged. 

"Well, do you want me to ask why you're not okay?"

"I never said I'm not okay. I just said I'm shit."

"Frank. I wouldn't expect you to be okay."

He sighed. "No, I don't want you to ask why I'm okay."

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"How are you?" 

"Shit," said Gerard with a dismissive shrug.

"Any reason?"

"Life."

"Fair enough."

There was another pause.

"How's Mikey?" Frank said in an effort to continue the slightly morbid small talk.

"Worried about Pete. Because Pete is worried about Patrick. Oh, which is another reason I'm feeling shit."

"How worrying." Gerard looked at the boy's wistful expression.

"Are you...?" he trailed off.

"Patrick was my only friend in elementary school," he said suddenly. "He was basically a tiny angel even then. And it was that's how I know Pete and stuff. Like, they were all Patrick's friends, and Brendon's my family friend. And Pete knew Joe and Joe knew Ryan and then I hung out with them more. But like...well, I knew Patrick was self conscious and shit, but...i wish I could've done something..." 

"He doesn't deserve it," said Gerard simply.

"And Brendon...its shit."

"Actual shit."

"The definition of shit."

They both sighed.

-

"Okay. So what's your grand plan you couldn't share with me?" 

Gerard grinned. 

"So, you know how the assignment is to do a piece of artwork based on the next fortnight? Like, continuously?" Frank nodded. "Well, how about we have this comic on this group of people, who are like misfits, right? And they're brought together, for whatever reason, and they have to save the world, and the enemy is this personification of the whole of society. And there feelings and thoughts and lives are painted out on there skin as tattoos, to represent the marks life can leave on you. Illustrated man/my little pony style."

"That's...deep."

Gerard didn't say anything.

"Its...Gerard, its an amazing idea!" Gerard smiled. 

"Okay, so how about we keep diaries or some shit. And like, record everything. And draw. We'll be the two main characters, right?" Frank was bursting with excitement.

Gerard chuckled at the smaller boy. "Yep. You wanna try and sketch out the characters?"

Frank nodded earnestly, and Gerard reached over to his impossibly huge collection of art supplies.

They just sat in Gerard's room like that for a long while, happily drawing and such. 

Frank's style if art was very interesting. He would include intricate details and swirling patterns of so many different colours. It was beautiful.

They eventually agreed that Gerard should draw figures and Frank do the tattoos. So, they just sat there, side by side, in an easy, comfortable silence. 

"Hey, Gerard?"

"Yeah?" 

"I... I'm glad we were partnered together..."

"So am I."

Gerard realised with a smile that he was telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On that note I dyed my hair blue and I am now officially a mermaid


	14. In which a newly proclaimed magical asexual princess tells gerard way to go to his grandma, the best heterosexual elderly woman agony aunt in the whole of 'murica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says  
> I am going to use this opportunity to express how much I love the way brothers  
> Like i was reading this magazine and it was like 'sibling goals- the sugg siblings' and i was like ew you are so wrong I hate these poor ignorant people imma read kerrang instead  
> Also why do Dan and Phil appear in those sort of obnoxious pop magazines like there massive gay nerds

"Gerard? I need to talk to your brother."

Gerard sighed, looking at his phone. 

"Gee, thanks, Ray. I feel so wanted. He's in the bathroom right now."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that!"

"It's fine, dude," Gerard laughed, but was cut off.

"Its just I've been grounded, and my mom says I have ten minutes before she takes away my phone, so you're kind of like my call from prison, and Mikey really needs to know something..." Ray trailed off.

"I can pass in the message...?"

"I kind of feel guilty telling two people...but sure."

"Okay..."

"It's about Pete." That made sense. "And it's also to do with me being grounded, in an offhand way."

"Do tell," said Gerard. He realised too late that that was a fucking creepy thing to say, but hey. Gerard was a fucking creepy person. 

Ray seemed pretty unfazed. "Well, you know that spectacular plan that our arch nemesi have? To, like, ruin our lives? Well, they tried to target me, basically. Its pretty darn hard. Make me hate myself? I have the confidence of Brendon fucking Urie, minus the whole egotistical thing. Out me to my parents? I have a girlfriend-"

"Ooh, do tell..." Ray chuckled. He had a really infectious laugh.

"Maybe another day..." He laughed again. "Anyway, so I'm a hard egg to crack. So basically they told my mom I was doing drugs. She didn't believe it because my moms skeptical as fuck, but there's these drug dealers that meet outside my house so I've been grounded 'for my own safety. So now that I'm...ticked off their list..."

"That's, like, very morbid..."

"I know. But I was talking to Bob- he's sort of like our double agent now, he's a pretty decent guy- and he's heard the soccer team talk about Pete. Obviously, Pete's the captain, so they all have this mutual loathing for him, AND they know a lot about him. And this....this is to the point of fatal, Gerard..."

Gerard held his breath.

"You might not think it, but Pete...Pete is seriously unstable. He's bipolar or some shit, and if you think Frank's bad with his panic disorder or Patricks anorexia...Pete's, like, three times as bad."

There was a pause, and Gerard could hear the cars on Rays side of the line. 

"And...don't tell anybody this, but..." Rays voice was barely a whisper. "But...I didn't expect him to survive this long."

Gerard drew in a sharp breath.

"Can...can you tell Mikey, please? Because Mikey has made him so much happier. I don't know him that well, but I can see it in his eyes. Especially after what happened to Patrick...those two are so close. They're inseparable, and I think Mikey managed to keep Pete holding on once Patrick was hospitalized..."

"Yeah," said Gerard in a small voice.

"Shit. I'm sorry. This is a lot to take in. But its really..."

"I know. Its really, really important. I just...i never would've guessed it, you know? Of course I'll tell him. Besides the fact that Pete's a good person whom I like, losing Pete would be...very damaging for my brother. And I will protect Mikey at all costs." Gerard breathed.

"Yeah," Ray breathed.

"Thank you, Ray. Thank you so much. You're a great person, you know? Most people wouldn't think twice about it, but you...thank you."

Gerard could practically hear the smile on the other side of the line. "I've gotta go now, Gerard. I'll see you soon. Thank you."

"See you, Ray."

-

"Little bro? Get your gay ass downstairs, we're having a chat."

"Yeah," came the mumbled response.

Mikey was still in the bathroom. Mikey hadn't replied with something sarcastic. And was that...was that crying?

Gerard's protective big brother instinct kicked in as he raced up the stairs two at a time, yelling his brother's name at the top of his lungs. He spun past his mother, who gave him a confused look. 

"Mikey!" He was hammering on the door of the bathroom. "Mikey, let me in!"

He heard a pitiful sniff. "Leave me alone," said a small, wavering voice that sounded nothing like his sarcastic idiot of a brother.

"Mikey!" he yelled.

He heard a sigh of defeat and the door unlocked, making Gerard fall into the bathroom.

He stood up and looked at his brother. He was sitting on the toilet with the lid closed, hugging his knees. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, looking away from Gerard.

"Mikey...?" he said, voice gentle.

Mikey sniffed again.

"Hey. Hey, come here." He walked over to his little brother, tucking one of the slightly damp strands of hair behind his ear. Mikey tried to turn away in shame, but Gerard turned his brother to face him.

He looked at the red eyes and the fogged up glasses and the tear-stained face. 

"Fuck. Come here," he said, and Mikey simply collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

Gerard just held his brother for a while, rubbing tiny circles into the boys back. 

Eventually, Mikey either began to feel better or simply ran out of tears. He wriggled out of Gerard's arms, sniffling, and sat down opposite to him, crossing his legs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gerard asked carefully.

"O-okay..."

Gerard smiled. 

"Basically, I had a sort of fight with Pete."

Shit, thought Gerard, but he smiled and nodded.

He knew that Pete was fragile, but if he was messing his baby brother around...

"What exactly happened?" Gerard tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

"Well...we were home alone at Pete's house, right? And we were just making out on the couch. And then he sorta...he, like, put his hand on my thigh, that's all..." Gerard grimaced. Ew. "...and I just...I froze. I was really, really uncomfortable. Once he sensed this, he took his hand away, and he tried to say something, but I just...I just ran. Like, as fast as I could. It...it really scared me, Gerard."

Gerard nodded. "That's not really a fight, Mikey..."

"B-But what if he breaks up with me?"

"If he breaks up with you over that, then he's not worth it, okay? And you've got to set boundaries in a relationship. Anyway, you're too young."

"Gerard." Mikey sighed. "Gerard, you don't get it. This happened with Kristin and Alicia as well."

"So what?"

"I was with them for a long time, Gerard."

"You set boundaries. That's fine."

"Gerard-"

"You're young, anyway. You shouldn't be engaging in sexual relationships before you're ready."

"Gerard, I have never experienced sexual attraction in my whole life."

"So? You're still young, you shouldn't-"

"GERARD! Stop treating me like a kid!" Gerard shut his mouth. "What I'm trying to say is I am a boy in my late teens, and I'm not sexually attracted to anyone."

"But-"

"Gerard! Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"I think-"

"Gerard."

"I mean-"

"Gerard! I. THINK. I'M. ASEXUAL."

Gerard's jaw dropped. "Oh."

"Read between the fucking lines next time."

"But I thought with Pete you always-"

"Yes, I'm aware that kissing is not something asexual people usually do, but everyone's different. Like you said, everyone has boundaries. And I make out with Pete because I love being close with him, and it makes him happy. So maybe I'm demisexual or some shit, but I've decided I'm on the asexual spectrum, so there it is."

"Oh." 

"Are you...are you okay with it?"

"Of course I'm fucking okay with it, I've been oppressed and shamed for being gay my entire life, I'm not gonna disown you because you don't wanna do the diddly do."

"You are actually eight years old, I swear to god." They both laughed.

"You gonna tell mom and dad?"

"Fuck no. That would involve telling them about Pete, and I'm very much not ready for that." Gerard grimaced in agreement.

"What about grandma? Wait, does she know about Pete?"

"Yeah. Turns out she knew him back when she lived in Chicago, and he was staying with his mom over the summer. They were neighbours. Coincidence, huh? She said she was very proud of me, and thought he was a lovely young man, and she gave me a cookie. Hey, does she know about Frank?"

Gerard grimaced again. "No. Never got round to telling her."

"Well, its never too late. For a straight, elderly woman, she is pretty damn good at giving relationship advice." Gerard chuckled.

"Wait, what makes you think I still have feelings for Frank?"

"I know you, Gerard."

"But, I don't even know if I still have feelings for him!" 

Mikey laughed. "You do."

Gerard sighed. "I do."

"I know you think I'm really oblivious, but I know stuff. The perks of being a socially awkward wallflower, dude."

They laughed, and sat in a comfortable silence for a small while.

"Mikey?" Gerard said eventually.

"Yeah?"

"Why is being asexual such a big deal? Like, I get that its pretty tough to come to terms with it, and you're impossibly strong for doing so, but you were in a fair state when I came in..."

Mikey sighed. "Its because...I'm scared Pete'll dump me. That he'll not want me anymore, because I cant..."

"Mikey, a relationship shouldn't be based on sex."

"I know, I know. It's dumb."

"No! It's perfectly valid. But you shouldn't be concerned. And I think Pete needs you at the moment, anyway..."

He leaned in and whispered Ray's warning into his little brother's ear.

He was silent for a long time.

"Well," said Mikey eventually, in a voice that was a little higher than normal, "I guess, now I've discovered that I am a magical asexual princess, I better protect my darn handsome prince."

"Yep. And tell that prince about your asexual princessness, okay? An apology might work. I'm going to call Grandma."

"The best heterosexual elderly woman agony aunt in all of 'murica."

They shared a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In further news I have sold my soul to AAR


	15. They're so gay for each other ugh just kiss already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even I, the author, just want Frank and Gerard to make out. But hey, self control.

"Hey. Gerard. Gerard?"

"What." Gerard snapped, not glancing up from his sketchpad.

"Um...I was just wondering..." The intruding voice trailed off.

"Spit it out," said Gerard irritably, finally glancing up from his drawing. He almost did a double take at the sight.

There, in full glory, was a boy. A boy with a lip ring and slightly fluffy hair and infuriatingly golden eyes and that small smirk that seemed to permanently belong on his face and-

"Oh, hey there, Frank. I wasn't paying attention."

Frank's smirk just widened.

"I was wondering if we could get some more of the project done. I wrote down some stuff about what happened recently, and something...something happened last night as well, and I guess I also wanted to...I don't know. So, yeah..." He trailed off.

"Sure! Something happened last night for me too that we could include. We can finally finish sketching up the characters and start the first scene, maybe? It sure is nice to be ahead of an assignment for once!" They both chuckled.

"Yeah. Do you wanna...we can go to my house, I guess, if my mom-"

"It's fine," Frank didn't try to hide his relieved expression. "It's fine, we can just go to mine. All the stuff's there and Mikey won't disturb us." Only once the words had escaped his mouth did Gerard realise how suggestive that sounded. He grimaced slightly.

"Tha- um, I mean, sounds good." Frank sounded ever so slightly flustered.

They looked at each other for a while.

Frank had the most amazing eyes.

"Uh, I'm just gonna grab some stuff from my locker."

"Want me to come with?"

"Um, it's fine." Was Frank blushing? "You wait for Mikey. I wont be a mo!" Once Frank turned the corner, both boys unknowingly kicked themselves at the same time.

Why was Frank so infuriatingly perfect? That smirk would be the death of Gerard.

Well, he was exaggerating, obviously. It was only a tiny crush. He didn't even like Frank that much.

His grandma had given him the vaguest of advice (something along the lines of, 'go get 'em, son!' after discovering Frank liked art) that hadn't helped Gerard's situation whatsoever, and all he could do was sit and wait for nothing, wasting away.

Ha. It was hardly a situation, though. He BARELY liked Frank. It was just, those eyes...and that way they twinkled as he spoke to Gerard...and that smile...and that darn lip ring...

-

Gerard had managed to survive the journey with Frank without a) embarrassing himself horribly in front of him, b) kissing the everloving fuck out of him, (small crush, huh) or c) dying. Or, come to think of it, d) all three.

He was just about to release a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding when his brother appeared timidly by his side.

Said brother had spent the entire walk silent, traipsing behind him and Frank, taking no notice of the painful small talk and the urgent, desperate looks Gerard had been shooting him.

"Uh, before you guys go down to the basement, I just gotta talk to Gerard a moment..." 

His voice was so tiny Gerard was surprised Frank actually heard, but the smaller boy nodded and slipped down into Gerard's room without him.

"You okay, Mikes? You were pretty quiet today..."

"Iinvitedpeteoverandimscaredandineedyourhelp,"

"Huh?" 

Mikey took a deep breath. "So I told Pete I need to talk to him and I spent the whole lunchtime hiding and invited him over and he's coming in five minutes. And I basically need moral support because I'm shitting myself here."

"Everything will be okay, Mikey. Don't worry."

"I know, but..." Mikey's tone was almost whiny. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he was shitting himself, Gerard realised with a start.

"Of course I'll help you. I'll just, like, pretend to be making coffee and I'll slap you if you start avoiding it."

Mikey sighed.

"Did I say that aloud? I meant, I'll, like, pour cold coffee on you if you pass out from fright."

Mikey sighed again. Gerard defiantly deserved an award for being the most hopeless brother in existence.

"Come on, Gee."

-

"Hey, Frank? I just need to do something for Mikey. Sorry. I won't be long, and I'll explain later. You could just, like, start working on stuff? It's all in my top drawer."

Frank jumped guiltily away from something he was looking at. Gerard chose to ignore his nosiness.

"Okay."

"Sorry. Be back in a minute."

-

Gerard stood at his post in the kitchen, waiting with baited breath. 

He was nervous. He was nervous for his brother, his sensitive, sweet little brother, who was currently standing in the hallway, waiting with equally baited breath.

This meant a lot to Mikey. Pete was important to him and telling the truth was important to him. Now it was time to combine the two.

The doorbell rang.

Gerard picked up a mug.

The person knocked.

Gerard reached into a drawer.

Mikey opened the door.

Gerard began to clatter convincingly around the kitchen, picking up random utensils and banging them around. He could hear muffled speech from the hallway.

Soon enough, Miley invited Pete into the living room, sitting down on the sofa with a creak.

"So, Pete, I have some explaining to do."

Gerard was holding his breath again.

"Okay..."

Pete's voice was low. He didn't seem to be his loud, outlandish self, and that concerned Gerard sincerely.

"Well, uh...I..." He could here Mikey gulp from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I, um...I..." Miley sniffed loudly. "I mean, I...uh, yeah, I..."

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a wimp!" Mikey said suddenly.

"No, your not! Mikey, you can tell me anything. Hey, don't cry! Cone here. It's all going to be okay. It's all going to be okay."

For a while all Gerard could hear was a quiet sobbing and Pete's mumbled words of comfort. 

"I'm so sorry," Mikey said eventually.

"Don't be. It's okay."

"Well, what I'm trying to say is...remember when we were at your house and I ran away? Well, that's because...because, uh...."

There was another sizable pause.

"BecauseIthinkImasexualandiwasscaredyouwouldbreakupwithmeandijust...I just..."

More quiet sobbing.

"Hey. Hey, Mikey. Look at me, please."

There was a few seconds before Mikey seemed to oblige.

"You think you're asexual?"

"I know, it's dumb, I shouldn't be able to -"

"Mikey. It is not dumb. Every single part of you is 100% valid. There is nothing wrong with being asexual. I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable, and I hope that we could discover your boundaries together maybe?"

Mikey sniffed.

"Thank you so much for telling me. You are the bravest of the brave, mikeyway." They both chuckled.

"And always remember; I will care for you, no matter what. I'm not going to leave you because you don't want to have sex, okay?"

"Thank you, Pete. For understanding, and listening, and being the best boyfriend in the world."

This seemed to be Gerard's cue to leave the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Hey there, Pete," he said, barely glancing to the side. They seemed to be cuddled up on the sofa together, Mikey in Pete's arms. Which looked slightly ridiculous, considering Pete was about half the size of him.

"Hi, Gerard," he nodded. Mikey smiled a thanks.

Well, that was sorted.

-

When Gerard entered his room, he found Frank staring intently at some drawings.

"Hey, Frank," said Gerard nonchalantly.

Frank nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be looking at them. God, I'm so nosy...it's horrifying..."

He looked so conflicted that it was hard for Gerard not to say 'but you're so cute, it's horrifying' or some equally as awful pick up line.

"Frank, it's okay. Ask next time, because it's quite personal, but it doesn't matter. You want coffee?" He offered the mug.

Frank took it, murmuring words of gratitude. 

"What were you looking at?" 

Frank pointed at a few. A girl, snarling and holding up a gun as black blood poured from her heart. A couple, splattered with blood, doomed to die before there lips could meet. A figure in the middle of a grey, pastel mess, chains coming from the colourless void gripping their arms and legs. All quite morbid; art Gerard had usually made in the middle of the night, when shadows shifted and lurked around the bed, where the light was fake, where the clouds hid the light of the moon, where sinister forces that existed inside his head controlled his every move. These nights happened more often than someone may think. 

They were the nights when the voice inside his brain became too much.

"They're...really intriguing..."

"Yeah?" Gerard gulped. "What do you think?" he said hesitantly.

"I think...I think they're amazing. The art is good, obviously."

"No. What do YOU think?" 

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "I think they're true. I guess I...I guess I relate to them on some level."

Gerard looked deep into the boy's eyes. 

He did understand. Of course he understood.

"Thank you," he said, quiet.

"Uh, Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"I..." He gulped. "I think you're amazing, too. I mean, because if the art. You must go through...well, you're amazing for coping, I guess...? And also because...actually, never mind."

Gerard just smiled, and his green eyes met those honey ones for just a second too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um yeah I forgot to say I'm not dead I'm in Wales using free WiFi in a restaurant  
> On the plus side I have written two more chapters beside this so enjoy


	16. In which Big B crashes a double date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is awful and I am sorry but hey

Two pages, nine sheets if paper, three paintbrushes and eleven pots of water later, Mikey announced to the pair of them that it was time for a lovingly prepared dinner treat for them both. 

Frank looked at Gerard quizzically. "Is Mikey a world class chef or something? What kind of teenaged boy prepares dinner for the house?"

"Mikey's shit at cooking. Apart from making bacon. He's really, really good at preparing bacon...sounds like we'll be getting a plateful of bacon."

Frank made a face.

"Do you not like bacon!?" Gerard's mouth formed a comical o shape. 

"Vegetarian."

"Fair enough."

When they got upstairs, they discovered that they had ordered pizza.

"I had a sneaking suspicion you were telling a little white lie there, Mikes."

Mikey smiled innocently up at his brother. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Gerard."

Gerard chuckled. "Make yourself at home, Frank!" he said, gesturing to the homely sitting room. 

Frank defiantly made himself at home, and they all tucked into the pizza. 

"Pizza is good. Its quite hard to mess up pizza," Mikey remarked, quite suddenly.

"That is the best quality of pizza," added Pete in-between mouthfuls.

"Very true, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third. Very true."

Gerard had to admit, they were an adorable couple. Even though it was his brother. 

He sighed happily, looking at the happy scene that lay in front of his eyes. Sure, certain doom was around the corner, and the threat of the soccer team cult was looming, but he was almost happy. Pretty much everything sucked, but it only made Gerard appreciate things more. That sounded lame.

Gerard was no fool. He knew he was on this fucked up, twisted hit list. He knew they were coming for him. He knew he was in danger. Hell, he was enjoying it.

It almost sounded like he was in some slightly shitty horror movie. Another point to add onto his endless list of proof that high school is royally fucked up.

Ugh. People were such assholes. Best not to associate with them.

Well, he thought, glancing around the room, eyes lingering on Frank. A little too late for that, evidently.

His train of thought was interrupted when the door burst open, and, for some fucking reason, none other than Brendon Urie pranced into the room. 

"THE PARTY HAS ARRIVED! BIG B IS IN THE HOUSE! TIME TO- oh shit! Are you having a double date or something? I'm so sorry! Listen, just pretend I'm the fancy waiter or something. I'll just go get-"

"Brendon. Brendon."

"Yes, Gerard dearest?"

Gerard rolled his eyes. "Just three questions. 1: The fuck you doing it my house? 2: The fuck you get in my house? 3: Big B?!" 

"I'm eager to know the answer to all those questions," added Frank, "but please prioritise the third."

Brendon gave a mildly terrifying smile. "Its a hint to the size of my D, just a subtle version to match my personality, you see?"

"I'd rather not see, actually, Brendon." 

"You sure about that, Big M? You don't have to tell Petey here..."

"Big M?"

"A hint to his big mouth, but subtle. Subtle like my personality." 

Mikey looked offended.

"Bren." Pete stood up and placed a hand on Brendon's arm. "I hate to break this to you, but nothing about your personality. Plus, Mikey would rather not see your big D."

"How do you know that? I doubt he wants to see yours. And it doesn't deserve that nickname, anyway. Mini Petey isn't very...sizable."

"Okay, but how the fuck do you claim to know the size of my dick?"

"You don't wanna know, dear."

"Nice. But, Brendon, I don't want to see your dick. I don't want to see Pete's either. I'm asexual."

"Mikey! Why didn't you tell me?" Brendon looked personally offended. "I didn't know!"

"I didn't know, either, until yesterday. Well, I guess I already sort of knew, but, yeah."

"Why wasn't I the first to know?" Brendon mock gasped. "I'm more fabulous than Pete, you know."

"Pete wasn't the first to find out. It was actually Gerard."

"Well, I'm more fabulous than Gerard."

Gerard snorted. "Yeah. Right."

"Why wasn't I second? Was that Pete?"

"That was actually my grandma."

"Well, I'm more fabulous than your grandma."

Both Gerard and Mikey nearly choked on their pizza.

"Okay, saying you're more fabulous than me is ridiculous, but Grandma is the most fabulous thing in existence." 

"Huh." There was a pause while everyone resumed stuffing pizza into their faces. 

"Hang on. Brendon, you never answered my questions. How did you get in?"

"Front door's open," he answered dismissively. 

"Oh sh-" Mikey leapt up. 

"Chill, Big M. I closed it."

"Okay," Gerard leaned back on the sofa, narrowly avoiding brushing arms with Frank. That would've made the sexual tension sky high. "Okay, and why are you here?"

"Well, I have composed a list. It's like a friendship list. A birthday list, if you will. And it has determined that your time to look after me has swung around again. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you have an incredible collection of herbal teas."

"I'm sure it doesn't."

"Friendship list, you say?" Frank piped up.

"Yes. Of course, you were on there, but I doubt your mom would want...plus, she knows my parents."

"No, of course. I didn't mean that."

"I was allocated a slot several days ago, for two nights. It was hell."

"You're ever so kind, Petey."

"Asshole." Pete coughed.

"Excuse me?"

"Just kiddin, Bren. I love you really." 

"And I love you too, Petey." Brendon slung an arm around Pete.

"Okay, we can probably clear out the spare room, if you want."

"Is this okay with your parents?"

"They are conveniently out right now. They're not coming back until Sunday evening."

"Nice."

"Hey, I have an idea!" Mikey announced. "How about Frank and Pete stay as well, and we can have a massive party!"

They all cheered.

"I don't know if a party is realistic..." Gerard mumbled.

Brendon looked at him with muck horror. "How dare you! Anything is possible! Darn pessimists."

"I don't think we should have a party." Gerard said firmly.

"What?"

"I think we should make a fort instead. A massive fort. And eat food. And get slightly drunk. And play sleepover games. And forget about life."

They all stated at him. It was the best idea since my chemical romance. 

"Lets do this!" Pete whooped.

The room erupted into chaos and Gerard was about to fetch a thousand blankets when Brendon approached him, almost shyly. 

"Gerard, are you sure it's okay? Me staying here, I mean. It's just...I feel like I've extended my welcome and I'm being too...I don't know. I get really patronising and arrogant when I'm nervous. Bad habit, huh? But I can always go somewhere else."

Gerard could've kicked him out. Gerard could've saved himself so much trouble. And he would have, in normal circumstances.

But he didn't. Because they were building a blanket fort. Because Brendon needed him. Because they were all doomed.

Because Brendon was his friend.

"Stay as long as you like. I know you need it, and I want to help."

These were not normal circumstances. In fact, Gerard doubted the circumstances would ever be normal again.

-

"Mom, please."

Gerard was about to burst into the hallway when he heard Frank's pleading voice.

"I know its short notice. But you don't have to do anything, and I'll do the dishes and groceries and take care of you once I get back."

There was a pause. Gerard peered through the gap between the door and the wall, straining to see Frank.

"Yes, his parents are home. No, I'm not going to have sex with him. And cant you ask Carrie or one of your friends to drive you home tonight?"

Another pause.

"Ugh. One of them must be sober. Or you could walk home?"

Pause.

"Listen, when I get back I'll do anything you want me to. I'll do all the cleaning and stuff! I promise. This is just...this is just really important to me, okay? Please? Just this once?"

Pause. Frank appeared to be grimacing.

"No mom! Just because I'm -"

Pause.

"Yes they are all boys, no they are not all gay."

Pause. Assuming Frank was talking about them, that was a big fat lie. Why was everyone gay? It was great.

"No, actually."

Pause.

"Okay, one. But he's asexual and has a boyfriend."

Pause.

"Asexual means he doesn't have sex and stuff."

Pause.

"No I'm not! Google it!"

Long pause. Frank's expression gradually got more uncomfortable.

"Mom! Can you please stop being so fucking homophobic!"

Another long pause.

"I'm sorry mom..." His voice was barely a whisper.

Pause.

"No, I won't be any trouble. Yes, I'll be back at eleven. Then I'll do all the housework."

Pause.

"Thank you mom!"

Pause.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you...?"

With the final pause, Gerard watched as the small boy's face fell at whatever his mom had; or hadn't; said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idea everybody introduce yourself in the comments because you're all fabulous 
> 
> my name is emma and im a magical dragon and i have a dog called lenny and i live in gallifrey


	17. The Joker is better than your face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ^seriously tho
> 
> P.S this chapter is v v short because the sleepover is probably going to be two chapters and I wanted to organise it

It didn't take long to make the blanket fort.

After approximately twenty minutes of hauling and balancing and arranging, the sitting room was transformed into a mighty fortress of pastel coloured blankets in the pleasing colour scheme their dad had painstakingly organized. It was a place fit for a king; at least, that's what newly crowned King Mikey thought.

"I thought it was Lord Mikey," Gerard commented once the coronation was complete.

"I upgraded from Unicorn Lord to Unicorn King. Now, bow before me, peasant."

"Peasant?" Gerard retorted. "I am your brother. Royal blood pumps through my veins."

Mikey wrinkled his nose. "Fine. Be the king's sour older brother that creates an elaborate evil plan to assassinate me and claim the throne."

"Sounds good."

"Wait! He needs a title!" Brendon announced.

"Lord Gerard?" Frank suggested.

"I have a better idea. Instead of my title being lord, I will simply be known as Batman."

"Batman's lame," muttered Frank darkly.

"WHAT?" Gerard didn't care how much he liked the guy; he was ready to punch a crater into Frank's face.

"I mean, come on. He's a bit...he's a bit of a shallow character. He's all...he's very 'oh yeah I'm so dark I've got such a mysterious past I'm so troubled I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders' and its just kind of boring. Plus, the movies characterized him wrong."

"Fine. I wont be Batman then. And I agree with the movie bit, and the way everyone sees him is wrong. But he's a lot more complex than you say. And...The Joker. Need I say any more?"

"The Joker is, hands down, the best villain in existence, and I truly believe that no villain created ever will rival him." 

"I know! He's so manipulative and complex. It's-"

"Now," interrupted Mikey pointedly. "I love comics as much as the next guy, but can you please nerd out elsewhere?"

"And possibly make out at the same time? The tension is killing us all."

Gerard tried to ignore Pete's comment.

"Anyway! Lets make ourselves at home in Unicorn court!" Brendon broke the silence suddenly. 

Gerard snapped his fingers. "Snacks." 

Frank followed him into the kitchen.

"Sorry. Do you think I could have some water?" he said timidly.

"Course." Gerard filled up a glass for him.

"Thank you."

There was a pause, filled with the sound of Gerard rummaging through cupboards.

"Pete's a bit of a dick," Frank remarked suddenly. "I mean, he can act like a dick. Ignore him."

"Yeah." Gerard chuckled. "I like him, though. Mikey...Mikey's become so much more confident. And Pete really respects him, you know?"

Frank hummed in agreement.

"I'm worried about him. About what could happen when the rest of him team...oh shit, I probably shouldn't say that."

"Ray told me."

"Now they are proper dicks. I can't...I don't know who would be drivin to do that. It's heartless. And Brendon was a lot more affected than he lets on."

"Yeah." Gerard sighed, shaking his head slightly. "He literally had a breakdown on my couch. Then he drank all my herbal teas."

Frank laughed dryly. "That sounds pretty much like Brendon. Hey, you are finding out way to much about our home lives than you probably want to." It was supposed to sound lighthearted, but Frank looked so uncomfortable and almost wistful.

Gerard spent a moment wandering if it was too risky, before thinking 'fuck it' and placing a slightly awkward but well-meaning hand on Frank's shoulder.

Unexpectedly, Frank pulled him into a hug.

"I'm scared, Gerard," Frank whispered into the taller boy's shoulder. Gerard could feel his lip wobble.

"I know. So am I," Gerard said lowly, surprising himself by hugging Frank back firmly.

He listened as Frank broke down, sobbing in Gerard's steady arms. He seemed so starved of comfort, so sad, so broken. 

"I'm sorry," he sniffed after a while.

"Don't be." Gerard broke the hug to look at the smaller boy, smoothing his hair gently. 

In that moment, he almost considered kissing Frank. But, he didn't.

Instead, he just stared at those honey eyes, piercing through Frank's tears, piercing through the veil of sadness. Those eyes looked almost as if they had fought a thousand wars, seen a thousand deaths, lived a thousand lifetimes.

"It'll all be okay," soothed Gerard, voice quiet, hand still running along Frank's hair.

Maybe he wasn't lying anymore.

Maybe it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no cream cheese left and I wanna cry


	18. The art of pillow fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno how I feel about this chapter I've had writers block for a long time now (sorry bout that) but the end bit was almost therapeutic to write and I think it helped me plus I feel its time enough ;) ;) ;)
> 
> p.s spot the two references these are easy

"Well then. Snacks!" 

Gerard presented the food he had gathered and they fell upon it like starved vultures.

"The juiceboxes are for Mikey because he's too young to drink," Gerard continued.

"Dude." Brendon walked over and touched Gerard on the arm. "Dude, we're all underage."

"I know, but Mikey's like six years old."

Pete hooked an arm around his boyfriend's waist, patting him on the head.

"There, there, little Mikes. You want a sweetie?" 

Mikey grabbed a cushion and walloped him on the head. 

"Now, what top notch banter, hey, Frank mate?" Brendon said, squeezing Frank's cheeks. Frank's eyes popped at Gerard, pleading. Gerard laughed.

"Here we have the wild Brendon Urie, assuming his true form as a 'lad'." Gerard raised an eyebrow at Frank, who glared at him. 

Gerard ignored Frank's silent pleas for help and turned around to find Pete and his brother engaged in a full-scale pillow fight. That gave him an idea.

While Brendon turned around, still fondling a disgruntled Frank, Gerard threw a well-aimed cushion at the back of the tall boy's head.

Brendon whipped around immediately, victimizing Frank forgotten for getting revenge.

"Right, which one of you sorry bitches hit me?" 

Frank chuckled. "Thanks." 

Gerard bowed. "My pleasure, m'lady."

"Oh stap, you," Frank giggled and pretended to blush shyly behind his hand.

"I feel my dept to the fabled poltergeist in shining armour has been repaid."

"I'm like a superhero. By day: Frank Iero, small punk rocker with attitude and a surname nobody can pronounce. By night, or when, quite literally, closeted," Gerard snorted, "I am the superhero, the poltergeist. Like batman, but better."

Gerard wrinkled his nose. "And I am...i am just another comic book hero...better than Batman. Better than the poltergeist."

"Oh, really?" Frank challenged.

"Really."

"Well," Frank passed Gerard a pillow, grinning. "I think that can only be determined by a fight to the death!" He let out a bloodcurdling war cry and launched himself at Gerard. Perhaps not in the way Gerard would've liked, but he could deal. 

Before long everyone in the room was engaged in mortal combat. 

Unicorn King and The Spirit Of Emo fought a long, noble battle. However, Pete, being a massive dork, eventually let Mikey win, simply because he was adorable.

Meanwhile, The Forehead, (who was sort of fifth wheeling; not that Gerard would ever admit that) got his ass kicked by an unsuspecting lamp. After a lot of punches, kicks, a beautifully performed dance sequence involving a feather boa (nobody really questioned why Brendon had it in his jacket pocket. Nobody really wanted to know) and a coincidental shot to the crotch, Gerard wasn't quite sure how he managed to get beaten by an inanimate object, but hey, this is Brendon Urie we're talking about. Brendon Urie is defiantly one to do the impossible. 

Frank and he, however, had the most awe inspiring battle. He totally wasn't being biased here.

They were like two highly tuned ninjas, dedicated to their art, determined for victory, dancing around each other in the perfect picture of war. Hatred in their eyes, winning was everything. This was sacred. This was ancient. This was holy. This was all that mattered.

This was pillow fighting.

At least, until Brendon produced the feather boa.

The whole room held a breath as Brendon Urie lovingly wrapped the neon rope of synthetic feathers around the lamp that had been in the corner of the room, minding its own business and providing light, before Brendon decided to wager war on the poor thing. 

Gerard couldn't remember the exact moment he started referring to his sitting room lamp as a 'poor thing', but this night was probably going to be the craziest of his life; no point holding back.

Frank caught his eye with the most serious expression, and, after what felt like an age of staring, they both burst out laughing.

They both tried to resume fighting, but they were still cackling, and Gerard had reached that point where everything aches from laughing too hard. He couldn't lift the pillow, let alone hit it, as everything was way too hilarious. He could've been knocked out by one of the feathers that were clouding the air at this point.

Eventually, Frank and Gerard collapsed beside each other, hands brushing in a way that probably wasn't platonic, but Gerard pretended it totally was, for the sake of his sanity. He refused to over read Franks every movement. It was nothing. Probably. 

"I've missed this," Frank whispered solemnly, shifting his hand so it rested against Gerard's.

"M-missed what?"

Frank just smiled.

-

"Okay!" announced Brendon, the self-proclaimed sleepover master. "Pillow fighting is ticked off. Now time for Truth or Dare!" 

Everybody groaned.

"I have lovingly prepared a mental list of dares. Hold onto your hats, folks." 

"Brendon. Out of every person in the entire world, like, ever, I would least like to play truth or dare with you." Frank sighed.

"Charming. Anyway, everyone gather in a circle. Who's going first?" Brendon rubbed his hands together, cackling. He was enjoying this way too much.

"I nominate you, Brendon," piped up Mikey. Everyone murmured agreeably.

"Outvoted!" Brendon pretended to be insulted and flopped onto Pete's lap. Pete pursed his lips.

"Truth or Dare?"

"I'm going to go against every knowledge you had of me and say truth!" 

"Okay." Mikey stretched out his arms, knocking Brendon off Pete's lap and laying there himself in one fluid motion. Gerard watched as Pete fondled his brother's hair.

"If you were a girl for one day, what would you do?"

Brendon looked at the floor. When he opened his mouth, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

"I would...I would love who I want without being judged."

There was a silence. Brendon began to study his shoes.

"Yeah." 

Gerard looked up at Frank's low voice.

"Yeah," he repeated.

"Your turn, Gerard!" Brendon announced, suddenly perking up.

This was a dangerous game for him, and the look Brendon had on his face struck fear in his heart.

"Okay...dare."

Brendon looked disappointed for a moment, but it passed remarkably quickly.

"I dare you to tell us who you like!" he yelled.

Gerard rolled his eyes.

"Well...?" questioned Pete. Mikey seemed to be having a laughing fit beside him.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes flickered over to Frank. He darted them away hastily, rubbing the back of his neck. Mikey was crying by this point.

"I like...David Bowie," he said finally. 

"What is it with that obsession?" Pete flung his hands at the sky with exasperation, seemingly addressing God. 

"No...who do you LIKE?"

"David Bowie."

"As in-"

"David Bowie."

"But-" 

"David Bowie."

Mikey began to wheeze disconcertingly loudly.

"Shit, I need my inhaler," he managed to choke out.

Gerard rolled his eyes again.

Once Mikey returned, Brendon stood up.

"Now, since we are all pre-teen girls at a slumber party, I feel we all need to answer that fateful question, that key question." He grinned. "So, Frank. Who do you like?"

"My dog."

Brendon was ready to probe further, but Frank gave him a look. 

"Mikey?" asked Gerard. 

"I like food. Pete?"

"I like YOU!" Pete wiggled his eyebrows at Mikey. "No wait. Just kidding. I like food too."

"I feel we have reached a mutual agreement in this relationship." 

Pete murmured agreeably, pulling Mikey towards him. Mikey cuddled him in a very asexual manner.

"How about you, Brendon?" Frank crossed his arms. 

"Unlike the rest of you, I shall answer the question properly!" One day Gerard would have to ask Brendon how he made everything sound so groundbreaking and dramatic, because honestly, that was talent.

"I do like my dog!" Frank protested.

"I mean-"

"We know what you mean, Brendon. But my point is, in all seriousness, David Bowie is rather talented and also extremely pretty."

Nobody argued.

"Anyway, enlighten us, Big B. Who dost thou like?"

Brendon rolled his eyes at Pete. "I like Dallon Weekes."

"Tell us about him."

"He...he's really sweet." Brendon crossed his legs. "He's one of those people who just have this aura of gentleness, you know? He doesn't talk much. He's kind of shy, but once you get to know him, he's hilarious. And he's just generally an amazing person. And...I really like him." Brendon swallowed. He had this faraway look in his eyes.

"He sounds great." Pete's voice was but a whisper. "I'd love to meet him."

"Maybe some day."

-

Gerard sat in the kitchen, drinking a juicebox, avoiding the obnoxious sounds of an excitable game of truth or dare. He escaped after being told to 'kiss a part of Frank covered by clothing below his waistline' by Mikey, he looked at Frank, who was clad in only boxers and a ratty top, and decided to maybe call it a day.

"Enjoying that juice?" Franks voice broke the bubble of quiet.

"I'm to scared to give Brendon alcohol, to be perfectly honest." He didn't turn around, even when Frank sat down beside him, taking one of the juices.

The smaller boy chuckled. "I don't blame you."

The quiet comfort the kitchen returned, only this time, Frank was sharing his peaceful bubble. 

And it was wonderful.

So they just sat there. Both lost in thought. Both plainly enjoying each others company. Friendship was a beautiful thing, really.

Because that was it. Gerard had given up pretending. Frank was his best friend.

Despite trying to distance him, despite avoiding him, despite ignoring him and faking an indifference towards him, Frank was still his best friend, and still would be. Frank would always be Frank, the Frank Gerard was falling for.

And it was wonderful. It was so very wonderful.

"What you thinking about?" Frank said.

"Everything."

Frank grinned. "This is crazy, huh? Like, this. We're having this insane sleepover and fighting each other with pillows and doing these dumb dares and stuff while we're probably going to die tommorow."

"Raise your glass high for tommorow we die," Gerard chuckled, and they clinked their juiceboxes together.

There was a silence.

"The way I see it, is life gets tough. Things suck. People are hurt. You gradually begin to fall to pieces. One day, you will fall apart. Everybody does. You'll be falling apart and there's nothing you can do to stop it, as you reach the brink of the cliff, and you're desperate. You want to escape. At that point, you have two choices; end your life, or hold on. And if you hold on, you reach rock bottom. Everybody does. But the thing about rock bottom, is that is it. It's no bottomless pit. You reach the worst point of your life, but then everything begins to get better. The only way is up from that point. So the bit we all have to survive is that terrifying downwards spiral; the point in life where you look yourself in the mirror one day and realise that you are falling apart at the seams." Gerard closed his mouth, shocked at his sudden outburst. Frank looked confused.

"I think its more complex, but go on," the smaller boy prompted gently, picking up on Gerard's want to continue.

"Well, so as we fall, or fly, or whatever, it's scary. Thoughts come to some people, because, in the end, it's your brain that kills you. It's your brain that does all that damage and leaves all those scars. It's your very own brain, your vessel, the thing keeping you alive, that is the voice whispering to you at night. The biggest enemy is you." Gerard swallowed. "Because, cruel people exist. Hard times exist. But there are two parts controlling you; the one that decides if you fall or fly, and the one that decides how you cope, and, in the end, what choice you make. And the latter is the wisest; it knows that it cant change the situation, and how well we accept things. But it has this determination to make the most of the situation, this beautiful hope that it will fly, and, in the meantime, it grasps onto fleeting moments. Moments like today; moments of realisation, of craziness, of friendship, of caring. This side treasures all emotion presented to it, no matter the situation. It springs crazy things on you. It's the side that realises you are in a horrible situation, with these people threatening you and your family changing and your childhood ending and your depression hitting. It knows you are sad but gives you these brilliant friends and important people and happy memories and so much more. It's insane. It's crazy. It's bright. It's loud. It's wonderful. It's the side that keeps you going. It gives you hope." 

Frank was looking at Gerard intently. He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued.

"So what can you do? Well. Tomorrow, anything could happen. I am sad. But there is nothing I can do, because tomorrow is tomorrow and sad is sad and it's all in the other half of the brain so I have to say, 'no. I am going to ignore the fact I am falling down and live a colourful life despite the fact I want to cry. I am going to ignore the looming prospect of tomorrow and have a dumb sleepover on a school night and sit in a kitchen with a boy and say and do things that I'll regret and live one of these insane moments because I care and I don't care that everyone knows I care." Frank raised an eyebrow. "We are told to hide our emotions by the voices in our head, but sometimes you just have to look life-" His eyes met Frank's and he chuckled. "Sometimes you gotta look life in the eye and say 'I care, and I no longer care that I care.' You gotta say, 'I know that I am falling to pieces. I know I am miserable. But I'm going to completely ignore that. I am going to throw that out of the window and make memories and live out loud because I am insane. I am showing this weakness called caring because I don't give a damn."

Gerard looked at this boy in front of him. The boy that Gerard adored beyond words. The boy with the lip ring and eyes and combination of perfect features that created this beautiful thing. The kindness of his words, his smile, the way his eyes shone, the way he looked at Gerard, his voice, his height, his humour, his sweetness. 

Frank. 

"Sometimes-" his voice caught. "Sometimes, you have to look at reason and society and that voice, telling you not to do things, to stick with the rules society has laid down. You gotta just say to them, 'Fuck you! Fuck you, I am falling to pieces, I need to live.' You gotta just say, fuck it. Because I care. I care so much. So fuck it! Hard! In the ass!" Frank chuckled. There faces were inches away, now. "You need to do crazy things that make no sense. You need..." Gerard's hand were shaking. "To make memories during the hard times, you need to do things you'll regret, against all reason. Against all odds." 

He stared into the eyes of the boy he was falling for and leaned forward, tilting his head. All he had to do was...

"I-shit, I'm so sorry." Gerard flinched away, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He had fucked it all up. He had ruined his friendship. He-

"Gerard Way." Frank cupped his face, forcing the taller boy to look at him. "Gerard Way, after all this time...you are a complete idiot." He chuckled. "And it's wonderful."

And finally, their lips met.

Against all odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yessss


	19. TEEN TITANS ARE GO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a paid advertisement.

Gerard woke with a start the next morning. Groggy, he examined his surroundings, yawning. He seemed to be on the couch, tangled in a tight knot of duvet. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable arrangement, he thought to himself, popping his neck, but he was awake now. 

He rolled off the sofa, groaning. On second thoughts, that lumpy couch was currently looking really inviting.

"Hey there, sleepyhead." 

"Morning, Frank. What time is it?" 

"Midday." Frank smirked as Gerard leapt upwards, frantic. "We're skipping school because our sleepover was just way too fabulous." 

"So we're not going to die after all." Gerard made an approving noise, rubbing his eyes. "Wonderful. Is there any coffee?" 

"I'm not making it for you." 

"Oh, I think you are." 

"How can you be so sure?" 

Gerard smirked. "You'll be making me coffee alright. It wont take much convincing." 

"I'm not making you coffee." 

Gerard raised an eyebrow, making Frank huff. He looked directly at the shorter boy with the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. 

Frank sighed. "I'm making you coffee." 

"Hey, Frank?" Gerard asked suddenly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Did last night actually happen?" 

Frank looked back at him, the smallest of smiles stretched across his lips. 

"Yes. I think it did." 

\- 

After changing into some relatively clean clothes (although, relatively was optimistic) Gerard stumbled into the sitting room to find three people sitting on his couch intently watching cartoons. 

"What are you watching?" he murmured questionably. 

"TEEN TITANS ARE GO!" Brendon yelled. 

Gerard looked at Mikey with a really? expression on his face. Mikey returned with an it was Pete's idea but I'm not going to lie I am actually seriously enjoying it. Gerard rolled his eyes and flashed an I am going to pretend we are not related before storming off. 

"Don't diss Teen Titans Go, Gerard!" Mikey yelled. 

"They are watching teen titans. As in, the chibi TV series," Gerard announced, exasperated, as he stormed into the kitchen. 

"I know! I love Teen Titans Go!" Frank said, looking up from the coffee machine. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Gerard muttered to himself. 

"Don't diss Teen Titans Go, Gerard!" Frank chided. 

"That’s what-" He broke off and sighed. "You're all insane.”

"Here's your coffee. Now I'm off to watch the best TV series ever!" 

Gerard murmured a thanks, scowling as Frank bounced out of the room. Honestly. People these days. He began to make himself some toast, sipping from his mug. 

"GERARD! GERARD, GERARD, GERARD! WHERE ART THOU, FAVORITE GERARD?" 

Brendon bounced into the room, and Gerard scowled again.

“Hello favourite Gerard!”

“Are you drunk? Or high?”

“Nah. Pete just made the mistake of giving me coffee.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Come watch Teen Titans Go, Favourite Gerard!”

Gerard’s scowl only deepened. “No. Fuck off.”

“TEEN TITANS GO. TEEN TITANS GO. TEEN TITANS GO,” Brendon began to chant. “Come on, join in everyone!”

Gerard was suddenly assaulted by four teenage boys in various states of undress, which would’ve been pretty sexual if it weren’t for the fact they were all chanting the name of a butchered kids cartoon.

“TEEN TITANS GO! TEEN TITANS GO! TEEN TITANS GO! TEEN TITANS GO! TEEN TI-

“SHUT UP!” Gerard roared suddenly.

They all looked up at him meekly.

“Teen Titans Go?” said Brendon, as if it were a question.

Gerard rolled his eyes, scowling.

“Fine. I’ll watch your dumbass cartoon with you. But I’m going to hate every minute of it. I refuse to enjoy it.”

Halfway through the first episode, Gerard turned around.

“I am enjoying this…”

-

“Frank. Um, I wanted to ask you something.”

Gerard could hear his voice tremble, but only just over the pounding of his heart that he thought must be echoing through the room. In other words, he was scared shitless, and Frank seemed to know it.

“Yeah?” he prompted gently.

“Uh…I was just wondering…if, um…you would…uh…”

Gerard put his hands behind his back, squeezing them together in an attempt to stop them shaking. He swallowed that pesky lump in his throat.

“You don’t have to…but…”

Yes?” asked Frank more firmly this time.

“Wouldyouliketomaybepossiblygetcoffeewithmesometimeasinliketogetherjustthetwoofus?”

Chuckling, Frank raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to of course, I just thought…” Gerard gulped, all confidence crumbling to dust. His tone became almost whiny. “I just thought that…you might…like it.”

“I would like that very much,” said Frank, smiling. Gerard felt a rush of relief. Then Frank added what seemed to be Gerard’s new pet name.

“Idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in reality teen titans go is one of my favourite shows in the world
> 
> yeah that was shit I know but I kinda feel like shit so it rubs off


	20. In which many forehead jokes are made and i decide to finally make brendon tell somebody to close the goddamn door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where ryan and brendon acknowledge each other's existence feat. mentions of the milk fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stalked Gerard's twitter and he actually enjoys watching Teen Titans Go with Bandit so there

Gerard Way woke up with the most brain-shattering headache in the history of mankind.

It felt as if his mind was splitting in two, and was the most pain he had ever been through. A fact he disgruntledly vocalised to Mikey, who had been given the most hated job in the Way household; waking up Gerard.

“Huh,” commented Mikey at this. “The Splitting of the Mind. Sounds like a book. Or a long-winded, soul destroying fanfiction that features you in a mental hospital or something.”

Gerard decided not to question that random statement, instead concluding that Mikey wasn’t feeling well.

He stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing only boxers, and proceeded to bang his head on the worktop several times until Mikey offered him some coffee. Once satisfied that one mug of liquid happiness was on the way, he began to pour milk onto some Fruit Loops and shovel them into his mouth.

Evidently, a quarter of the milk carton wasn’t enough to fully soak his cereal mountain, so, irritable, he poured more on just as his phone began to ring.

“What.” He snapped.

“Good morning to you too, Gerard. I take it you haven’t had your coffee?” Frank’s voice floated down the line, irritatingly cheery.

“Th’ fuck you want?” Gerard apparently wasn’t able to speak in full sentences before noon.

“Oh, I just wanted to chat, you know.” Gerard could practically hear the smirk.

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.”

“Fuck off.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck.”

“Wrong.”

“Off?”

“Wrong.” Gerard sighed, annoyingly dramatic. Some Brendon Urie vibes must’ve rubbed off. “So, what you doing?”

“Pouring milk onto cereal.”

“Ooh, Ryan would like you.”

“What the fuck?”

Frank chuckled. “Going now bye.”

Gerard sighed again, chomping down on his successfully drowned Fruit Loops. This was going to be a long day.

-

“FAVORITE GERARD! FAVORITE MIKEY! HELLO!”

Gerard looked up. Why was there a forehead bouncing up and down, obscuring his vision?

“Gerard?”

“Yes?”

“Why is there a forehead bouncing up and down, obscuring our vision?”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Mikes,” he sighed. “It’s probably some kind of alien? A mutant? A disembowelled forehead, that somehow has a life of its own?”

“Hmm,” Mikey mused. “I’m leaning towards the disembowelled forehead with a life of its own. But maybe- oh no, wait. It’s only Brendon.

Brendon looked flustered. “Suck my ass.”

“No,” said the brothers in unison.

“At least close the goddamn door,” he hissed, nodding towards the classroom door, which was swinging in the breeze.

“Alright, settle down, class. To your places, please.”

Suddenly, a flock of butterflies in metal Doc Martens appeared inside his stomach. Was it a flock? Maybe it was herd…or a gaggle…wait…wasn’t that geese? Maybe it was geese in his stomach; they were certainly aggressive enough.

This morning, he had been too grumpy and headachy to really process what had happened the past few days. He had just had a normal conversation with Frank, forgetting all of that. But…Frank. Frank had kissed him. Frank understood him. Frank wanted to date him. Frank liked him.

And take a wild guess at who he sat next to.

“Hey, Gerard.”

The butterflies started to stop around, merciless.

“Hey. Sorry for being a dick this morning.”

“It’s cool. I know you.” Frank caught his eye, smirking, and winked.

Gerard visibly swallowed. “Is a gaggle of butterflies a thing?”

Frank thought about that for a while. “I think so.”

Halfway through the lesson, Frank spoke again.

“I was just wondering, when do you want to go get coffee? I mean, if you’re still up for it…you don’t have to…uh, sorry, I just-“

“Nervous, Iero?” Gerard chuckled. 

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you talking about?”

“Dork. How does tomorrow at 1 sound?”

“Ooh, why not?”

“Did I ever mention that you’re a dork?”

“Did I ever mention that you’re an idiot?”

“Bitch.”

Frank smiled slowly. Darn it, those butterflies were really ruining his life.

-

Everyone was gathered happily around the cork tree, chattering away, once school had finished. Casual as they looked, they were in fact avoiding getting beat up by the cruel, dumb soccer team cult that seemed to mark them as the enemy.

Frank was leaning on Gerard, his normal friends elsewhere, and Mikey had somehow crammed his spindly-ass body into Pete’s lap. 

“You two hooking up?” asked Ray, half-heartedly waving a sandwich in Frank and Gerard’s vague direction. 

“On the night of the sleepover, I went to get a glass of water in the kitchen and they were making out,” said Brendon.

“I see. Man, that sounds like a pretty legendary sleepover.”

“It was.”

All of a sudden, the Ryan guy who always hung out with Frank sat down in the centre of the circle. 

“Hey Ryan. What the fuck are you wearing?” asked Frank casually.

Ryan flipped him off, before greeting them all.

“Frank called me this morning. What’s with the milk?” 

Ryan looked at Brendon, for some reason. There was a long pause.

“What?” Gerard protested.

Ryan raise his eyebrows in Brendon’s direction and they both burst out laughing. 

“Oh man.”

“If my mom had found out about that…oh lord…”

“Good times, good times. Hear you got yourself a replacement, forehead.”

“Oh yeah. He’s called Dallon.”

“And your mom found out? I haven’t caught up with you in ages.”

“Well, you know. It was always going to happen. Better that way than her walking into the bathroom that day…” They both began to laugh again.

“Awh man, that sucks. You should talk to my dad or something.”

“What are they talking about?” Gerard hissed at Frank as they continued to talk.

“Oh. You really don’t wanna know.”

If there is anything Gerard had learnt in life, it was, when somebody says that, they mean it.

“Anyway. What I was here to say is, Frank?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Ryan looked deep into Gerard’s eyes. “I just want you to know, I severely pity you. Frank is practically my brother and he is the grossest, densest, annoying, obnoxious idiot I have ever met. Good luck with that.” He turned back to Frank. “Now, idiot in question, Joe isn’t answering his phone.”

“And?”

“And, the soccer team were looking pretty darn pleased with themselves,” Pete answered for him.

“And, Joe’s mom died recently.”

“And, we should probably check up on him?”

“And, Iero is catching on.” Ryan grabbed Frank’s arm and whisked him off.

“SEE YOU TOMMOROW, GEE!” How Gerard could see the wink from that distance baffled him, but hey, Frank Iero everyone.

“I CAN’T WAIT,”

He really couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> joe my smol child
> 
> just a heads up I lowkey ship joetrick so if that sneaks in I apologise


	21. inside his mortal body, he vessels the power of a fashion god and the gift of some spiderman boxers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete also is a fashion god and Gerard aint as hopless as he seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the spiderman movies

“Mikey. Mikey, I need your help. Now.”

Gerard heard a sigh as his brother got up and cracked open his bedroom door, peering out. “What can I do for you, brother dearest? Pete’s coming in half an hour, it better be quick.”

“Wow, I sure am glad I’m not around to see that. Well, the thing is…” Gerard looked down at his shoes. Wow, they sure were fascinating.

“The thing is…?” Mikey prompted, impatient. 

“I’ve got a date with Frank soon and I don’t know what to wear,” Gerard said finally.

“Oh dear. We’re really gonna have to work on this, Gee.”

“I know.”

“However, you’ve stumbled across the correct person. As you can see, I am a fashion god,” Mikey announced, finally opening the door and gesturing to his sophisticated outfit of a pair of Spiderman boxers. “You gotta be jealous of my Spiderman boxers.”

“I am jealous of your Spiderman boxers! Bitch.”

“Aha. Told you so. Everyone yearns for their own Spiderman boxers.” Mikey smiled cockily, and a unicorn was born. “Now. Let us go to the basement.”

Spiderman boxer clad fashion god mikeyway made the Spiderman symbol with his hand and superhero-flew downstairs. Gerard, however, had neither the power of the boxers nor the power of a god, so he walked normally.

“Damn it. I really want those Spiderman boxers.”

-

“Coffee date. Coffee date. Coffee date.”

Mikey was pacing Gerard’s room, inspiration less. 

“Coffee date. Coffee date. Coffee date.”

Gerard picked up his phone. He had a text.

Poltergeist: still up for today??

He grinned.

Batman: Yep. How’s Joe?

“Mikey, are you ever going to stop pacing? It’s making me tired.” Gerard sighed and walked over to him. “Look, I’ll just wear one of my shirts and some jeans. It doesn’t matter.”

“NO! Gerard, that shirt is five days old, and those jeans aren’t even skinny!” Mikey visibly shuddered at this fact, like the emo he was. “As your younger brother, it is my duty to make sure you look good. To make sure you look attractive without trying; a fair job, because of your face and hair and general existence; to make sure you look casual but not sloppy, smart but not desperate, perfect but not too perfect!”

“Perfection is a myth. I don’t believe in perfection.”

“Stop interrupting my fashion god monologue!” Mikey shook his head, frustrated. “My purpose in this wicked world is to rid all from the binds of bad fashion! Especially you, ugly brother. I realise it is not your fault I got all the good DNA-“

“What good DNA?”

“The jawline, Gerard. Look at the jawline!” Gerard looked at the jawline. He was right. “It is not your fault I got all the good DNA, so I have taken it upon myself to fix this, somehow. Which is why I am here! With my guidance, you shall blow Iero away!” All of a sudden, Mikey’s phone began to ring. “Hold up. That’s Pete. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jesus. His brother was the oddest person to walk this earth, but Gerard loved him more than anything else in the universe. Mikey Way mattered. Mikey Way was crazy, enthusiastic, shy, caring. He was like no other, and Gerard was proud to call him his brother. 

Gerard’s phone buzzed. It was Frank.

Poltergeist: he’s good. he’ll pull through  
Batman: do u know what happened?  
Poltergeist: well, his mom died over the summer. he was pretty strong about it, he was doing well, bc this is joe trohman we’re talking about. but our friendly soccer team cult were being horrible about it and shit. that hurt a bit, but he’s gonna be ok.  
Batman: that really sucks.

Suddenly, Mikey burst into the room, followed by none other than Pete Wentz.

Batman: gotta go see u soon

“Now, I hear that someone is having a fashion crisis!”

“Where the fuck did you come from? Were you hiding in Mikey’s closet or something? Jesus.”

“Been watching you two from the closet…” Pete grinned, showing a lot of teeth.

“Stop scaring him, Pete. Scaring people isn’t nice, okay?” Mikey swatted at his boyfriend, in an affectionate manner. “Now, I have searched the darkest corners of this house, and have gathered a few things together…first of all, this shirt.” He threw one of his shirts at Gerard and it hooked itself onto his nose. “It’s quite a cool shirt-“

“Just like you, Mikey.”

“Okay, Pete. It’s quite a cool shirt and might help you look vaguely attractive-“

“Just like you, Mikey.”

“Or maybe like you,” Mikey said, smirking slightly.

“Oh no. You are the vaguely attractive one, but more than vaguely attractive. You’re drop dead gorgeous and your hair is amazing and you have this great aura of kindness and gentleness, and you’re all mysterious but then you’re a giant dork, and I pale in comparison. I truly am lucky to have you, beautiful.”

Mikey turned a beetroot colour and tried to hide his head in his arm.

“Oh Pete…”

“Be right back vomiting,” Gerard announced, grabbing his phone and some random clothes from the pile.

Batman: mikes and pete are being all cutesy halp me

Gerard began to inspect the shirts he had grabbed hastily. Most were band tees, aside from a baby-blue button down Gerard was defiantly not going to wear, which was no surprise. They were all slightly wrinkled apart from the one Mikey had thrown at him, and smelled pretty decent (mainly because Mikey was one of those people who thought wearing the same shirt for over a week was unhygienic; God knows why; and had picked out fresher clothes).

Poltergeist: do u remember the day they got together? Gross  
Poltergeist: we should totally get payback ;)

Gerard smirked, rolling his eyes.

Batman: easy tiger. Not that im objecting lmao

Gerard began to undress, deciding on the AC/DC shirt that had landed on his nose. It was a little baggy, but baggy shirts always went well with skinny jeans.

His phone beeped.

Poltergeist: pls don’t laugh your ass off, it’s a very nice ass ;)

Gerard frantically typed a reply.

Batman: beep beep beep oh sorry, do excuse that its just my fuckboy alarm going off  
Poltergeist: meanie :(  
Batman: only a fuckboy would double winky face and compliment my ass…  
Poltergeist: Gerard, it is a VERY nice ass. Plus, I am not partial to nike trainers and I am very very verY VERY un-straight  
Batman: fair enough. And you’re right. It is a nice ass.

-

“You guys suck at being fashion gods,” Gerard grumbled, walking back to his basement bedroom with a scowl. 

“Oh my gosh, Gerard, that outfit is great. Pete, didn’t I tell you he would rock that shirt?”

Gerard was wearing the baggy AC/DC tee, the tightest jeans in the history of the world, and his favourite black combats.

“Now, here we have exactly what I was thinking. Casual, but cute. Black jeans are smart and show off ass. Band shirt shows relevance and interest in things, while being oversized and adorable, and those combat boots add a worn ruggedness to the entire look. Well done, Gerard!”

“Pete, you are the optimum stereotypical gay guy.” Mikey looked seriously impressed.

“Optimeme, I think you’ll find.” Pete flashed a blindingly white grin. “Okay Gerard. Time for makeup.”

“What?”

“Well, since this is your first date, we might as well do this shit.” Mikey answered, a smirk playing across his face. “Welcome to the petemikey beauty salon. Please take a seat in the spinny desk chair.”

Slightly intimidated, Gerard took a seat in the spinny desk chair. 

“Close your eyes, please, sir,” Pete commanded, not doing a good job at calming Gerard’s nerves. He obliged, trying to block out the world around him. His stomach churned as he was poked and prodded and generally abused by his little brother and his human puppy boyfriend.

“AAAAND done,” Mikey announced a few minutes later, spinning the chair and producing a mirror from nowhere.

Together, they had messed up his hair and stiffened it with hairspray, added eyeliner and smudged it expertly, covered up a spot or two on his forehead, and somehow magically ridden him of eyebags.

“Whoa, where did the eyebags go?”

“That’s the WentznWay touch. Have a nice date, Gerard.”

“Okay. Don’t do anything irresponsible when I’m gone; you might wake mom.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll be sure to keep the cuddling toned down.” He leaned against the doorframe, a smile dancing across his lips. “Knock ‘em dead, big brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *to the tune of where did the party go*...I said woaahh, where did the eyebags go
> 
> this was fun and I feel I needed a lil fluff before the coffee date 
> 
> my friend came over yesterday and she started worshiping my brendon urie poster


	22. that moment when you make a bet with your boyfriend on whether the barista is going to hit on him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (by fall out boy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to add: Gerard is a sassy lil shit and I love him

Gerard sat at an empty table in the fancy hipster coffee place in town, frantically drumming his nails on the tabletop. 

Frank was six minutes late and he could feel the anxiety rising from his chest, threatening to choke…

Frank probably hated him. Frank was joking. Frank thought he was just an idle joke. Frank was dared. Frank didn’t care about him, Frank-

“Can I help you, sir?” Gerard looked up to see a barista frowning at him from behind the counter, suspicion written across her face.

“Uh,” Gerard mumbled, voice sticking. “Uh, I’m just waiting for somebody. We’ll be ordering together?”

The girl smiled, and went back to preparing drinks.

Now, where was he? Oh yeah. Frank hated him, Frank wasn’t going to turn up, Frank couldn’t come, Frank didn’t want to come, Frank had been eaten by a dragon-

His train of thought was interrupted when an utterly gorgeous yet slightly vertically challenged teenager sauntered into the room, and Gerard’s jaw dropped. 

Frank was wearing ripped jeans, a jet-black button-down, red Docs, and that smirk that would be the absolute death of Gerard. His lip ring looked new and his hair was styled.

He spotted Gerard and his beautiful face lit up. Gerard would marvelled at the fact that it was his simple existence that created that stunning expression; that he could be as important to Frank as Frank was to him.

Frank was a stunning, witty, caring, sweet, smart guy that was everything Gerard could possibly dream of. Gerard was just…Gerard. He was a depressed, unstable nerd with troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match. He was…the definition of a self-pitying, selfish loser.

But he vocalised none of this, just watched the being as close to that fabled perfection as possible cross the room with an expression of delight.

“You look…amazing, Gerard…” Frank said, the expression on his face almost awestruck.

Gerard didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to say that, or even think about that. He was determined to try this crazy, foreign thing called actually enjoying himself for once.

“Pot kettle black, Frank, you stunner.” Frank blushed.

“So, m’lady. What can I get you?” Frank gestured to the menu.

“Well, my dear poltergeist in shining armour. Let’s see…hmm…”

“In your own time,” Frank muttered darkly.

“That’s no way to speak to a lady!”

“I thought you were Batman? Batman’s not a girl!”

“The hammer of justice is unisex.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It was necessary!” 

Frank sighed, pretending to be irritated.

“Hmm…I’ll have an iced latte, if you’d be so kind,” Gerard said finally.

“Oh, not a problem, Lady Batman,” Frank teased, doffing an imaginary hat.

Gerard watched Frank walk up to the counter, defiantly not staring at his ass.

“Can I help you?” said the girl who had questioned Gerard earlier, wiggling her hips a little. 

“Uh, could I please have a strawberry cooler and an iced mocha?” Frank asked politely.

“Sure!” Frank placed his money on the table and she handed him his change and actually winked. Frank shot Gerard a terrified look, and Gerard began to chuckle.

Frank went to sit down, glaring at Gerard, who was still laughing is head off.

“Stop laughing!” protested Frank, irritated.

“I bet she’ll write her number on the cup.”

“Loser buys pizza for a week.”

“Done.” The girl approached the table, swinging her hips, and placed down the drinks.

“Here,” she said sweetly, winking at Frank again, who grimaced a little and thanked her. Gerard tried desperately not to laugh.

“Check the cup,” he said, winking mockingly. Frank checked the cup.

“Fuck.”

“I’m getting free pizza for a week!” 

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.” 

Frank glowered at him dangerously, making Gerard crack up again, all nervousness when flirting completely gone.

“Why the fuck did you get a strawberry milkshake anyway? I thought you like coffee.”

“It’s not a strawberry milkshake, it’s a strawberry and cream cooler!” Frank protested whiney. “And I do like coffee, I’m just not dependant on it like somebody I know.”

“If you think I’m bad, you should see how much coffee Mikey consumed daily.”

“At least he can function like a human being without it first thing in the morning!”

Gerard huffed, slurping at his coffee. 

“So any updates on Joe?” Gerard asked after a few minutes off happy silence as they drank.

“Nothing new. For what he copes with, he’s pretty mentally stable; he has a great sense of humour, he always listens, he’s an all-round good friend. I think that has something to do with a fact that is common knowledge: Joseph. Mark. Trohman. Doesn’t. Give. A. Fuck.” Gerard chuckled. “It’s fucked up what they’re doing, but it makes me happy that they’re barely getting a reaction from poor Joe.”

“A small victory in a large war.”

“I hate high school.”

“Same. But…” Gerard blushed, looking at Frank shyly from behind his eyelashes. “But…I’m glad I met you.”

Frank smiled widely. “As am I,” he said, a light pink colour grazing his cheeks.

Gerard slurped at his coffee, looking happily up at Frank. Frank met his gaze confidently, a hard determination in those enchanting honey eyes.

“Be my boyfriend?” he said, out of the blue.

Gerard looked straight at him. “Why the hell not,” he answered, grinning, and Frank gave a small smile.

Frank, his boyfriend.

-

Gerard was having an all-round lovely time before he walked in.

He was lost in a conversation with Frank about the properties of a satisfactory milkshake when, all of a sudden, a familiarly brutish face walked in, caught sight of Frank and Gerard, and scowled dangerously.

“What the fuck are you do doing here?” Adam grunted.

“Drinking coffee, Adam. As you can see.” He answered, because Gerard Way was a sassy motherfucker (fatherfucker?) that wasn’t afraid of anybody. 

“Fags,” he muttered darkly.

“Oh wow, Adam. You sure do have quite a gaydar. You sure you straight?” Adam looked like he wanted to punch somebody, and Frank was gazing at Gerard, an expression of sheer admiration on his face.

“You mean…you two…are…GAY?” Adam looked like his grandma had just told him that she was a bioplar psychopathic stripper (or Brendon Urie, because, where was the difference?)

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Frank.

“And you’re…you’re…”

“Yes. Two boys dating? How unheard of! It’s not as if it’s the twenty-first century or something,” Gerard sassed, earning some applause from the table beside them.

Adam looked outraged and mortified all at once. “What do you have against me exactly?”

Frank stood up before Gerard could stop him. “Where do I start? Adam, I’m not dumb, I’m not deaf, I’m not blind.”

“What are you talking about, Frank?” Gerard said, gut churning.

“Adam, apart from the fact that you’re a sexist, racist, homophobic dick, I know what you’ve done, in your grand scheme against us. You told Brendon’s parents about his gay friends, provoking him, indirectly outing him to his parents, getting him fucking DISOWNED. He’s HOMELESS because of you, staying at various people’s houses. He’s falling apart. You tried to get Ray in trouble. You told Joe- you told one of the best friends I’ve ever happened upon- that his mother’s death was HIS FAULT. And I saw everything. I know. I could see you, all those times, whispering in Patrick’s ear, helping his illness destroy him. I was THERE when you told him to stop eating, to give up, because he was; and I quote directly; ‘a disgusting, worthless fat-ass who has no talent.’ I thought nothing of it, because Patrick Stump is strong, but no. Two days later, he’s in hospital. He could have DIED. YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED HIM AND NOW PETE’S FALLING APART AND WE’RE ALL TERRIFIED. THAT’S RIGHT. IT WORKED, YOU’RE SCHEME. WE ARE SCARED, AND WE KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING. MIKEY NEXT, HUH? THEN GERARD, THEN ME, THEN PETE. YOU COULD KILL PETE. YOU REALISE THAT? YOUR GAME COULD KILL PEOPLE, BUT YOU’RE SAVING THE BEST TILL LAST, HUH?”

“Frank,” said Gerard, tugging on his boyfriend’s sleeve.

“But let me tell you something, Adam. I am terrified, but that doesn’t matter. I am falling apart, but that doesn’t matter. I can still survive. Because you know that fucked-up hit list? It won’t affect us. BECAUSE PETE WILL HOLD ON. BECAUSE GERARD WILL PROTECT HIS BROTHER. BECAUSE IF YOU LAY A FINGER IN GERARD; IF YOU HURT HIM IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE…” 

“Frankie!” Gerard said urgently.

Frank looked Adam dead in the eye, a twisted smile creeping across him face. “If you hurt him, you better fucking run. Hope you have a lovely day.”

Adam looked at him, surprised, as did Gerard.

“Frank...wow…”

Frank grabbed Gerard’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s get some ice-cream.”

-

Five minutes later, Frank and Gerard were sitting on a brick wall together, eating the best ice-cream Gerard had ever tasted.

“I’m sorry that piece of dog shit ruined our date,” said Frank with a sigh.

Gerard shook his head, sliding an arm around Frank’s waist. “He didn’t ruin it, Frankie. And you don’t need to worry about me; I was the one that asked you on the date!”

“Yeah, but I’m just assuming my natural position as a top, to be honest.” Gerard snickered. “You deserve the perfect date, though.”

“Frankie…Frank, look at me.” He gripped the smaller boy’s chin, turning him so their eyes could meet. “Frank, I’m with you, and that’s what makes me happy. That’s all that matters about this date, okay?”

“Okay. I just feel as if I’ve disappointed you.”

“Never.” Gerard sighed. “The way you stood up for me, the way you defended me…that was so brave. I know that took guts, and I was amazed. Right now, that’s all that matters. You. You’re…” Gerard shook his head, speechless. “You’re incredible, Frankie. You’re perfect.”

Frank leaned up against Gerard, cuddling back.

“So how about we just sit here, in our own little bubble, eat ice cream and pretend that the world doesn’t exist?”

And so, curled up against each other, they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man I was in claire's (shitty accessory shop) looking for tattoo sleeve bc my friend is being joe trohman for Halloween and they started playing immortals and she grabbed my shirt and was like 'EMMA LISTEN' and im pretty sure I cried because fall out boy  
> p.s do any of you know where you can actually buy tattoo sleeves? apparently claires isn't punk enough smh


	23. ryan ross has really nice hands and that has nothing to do with this chapter it is just increadibly important like srsly his fingers are sorta rectangular and really even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tada: dallon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not really happy with this but it was getting really long so...

The next day, a meeting was called.

Patrick, upon talking to Pete on the phone, had declared that he missed every one of them, and was slightly pissed with the soccer team. Gerard hadn’t thought much of the statement, but Pete insisted that he was serious. When Patrick was pissed, he was VERY pissed.

“He looks like a cinnamon roll,” Pete had remarked afterwards, “But he could actually kill you. Trust me on this one.”

Gerard was taking Pete’s word for it.

“Mikeeeeeey,” he yelled up the stairs. “Huuuurrrrrryyyyy uuuuuuuuppp!”

“Oh I’m sorry, you highness,” came his brother’s snappy voice from upstairs.

“We’re goooiiiiinnggggg to be laaaaaatttteeeee!”

“I dooooonnnnn’tttt caaaaarreeeee!”

Mikey finally appeared at the top of the stairs, scowling down at Gerard.

“What exactly where you doing?” 

“My hair.”

Gerard looked sceptically at the birds nest atop Mikey’s head. “Really?”

“Shut up. Let’s go.”

-

As Gerard had predicted, they were horribly late.

“Oh wow, in your own time,” Pete had said as he opened the door.

“Nice to see you too, boyfriend dearest. How are you doing today?”

Pete rolled his eyes, grabbing Mikey’s waist and kissing him hard. Gerard stood beside them, awkwardly staring at the ceiling. 

There was a chuckle from behind the couple. “Come right in, Gerard.”

“Hey Patrick. How are you coping?”

“Eh. I’m coping. My mom’s supervising me 24/7, and I guess I’ve lost her trust.” Patrick looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. “It’s my own fault, though.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Gerard found himself reaching an arm out, patting Patrick on the shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sure nothing has changed, really.”

Patrick shrugged. “Thanks, Gerard,” he said quietly.

“Come upstairs!” a voice Gerard recognised as Joe’s yelled down at them.

“Joe has made himself quite at home. Acting like he owns the joint. Honest.” There was a teasing edge to Patrick’s voice.

“I can hear you, Patrick!” Patrick chuckled and led the way upstairs.

The four entered a bedroom, but it wasn’t any ordinary bedroom. Firstly, it had been converted into a battle strategy meeting room, with chalkboards, tea, spinny leather chairs and those massive sticks used to push model troops around. Secondly, there was fedoras everywhere.

On the desk. On the ceiling. Stuck to the wall. On the back of every chair. Strewn across the bed. Every nook and cranny of the place was filled with fedoras. 

“Interesting décor, huh?” remarked a familiar sarcastic voice beside Gerard’s ear. A voice that made Gerard’s heart race.

“Hey, Frank,” he said quietly. Frank smiled, gently pecking the corner of his mouth. That action made Gerard sort of want to pin him to the floor and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of his boyfriend, but they were in public. Drat. 

“The room seems kind of quiet,” Mikey said suddenly.

Pete chuckled. His arm was still around the slight boy’s waist. “That’s because Brendon isn’t here yet.”

“That would explain it.”

“He’s bringing Dallon.” Everybody froze.

“Hmmm…” Patrick mused. “I’ll fetch the interrogation torches.”

All of a sudden, there was a ring on the doorbell. “That’ll be them.”

Everybody raced downstairs in a massive stampede, desperate to get there first.

“No wait,” Patrick said. “You’ll all need to stay upstairs. We don’t want to scare him away.” 

Everybody protested. 

“This is my house and I am answering the door!” he yelled, and everyone sheepishly made their way back to the bedroom to wait.

After about a minute of baited breath, Patrick and Brendon entered the room. “Dallon’s waiting outside. Please be nice to the baby giraffe,” Patrick said.

“Seriously, guys. Please don’t scare him off or intimidate him,” Brendon added, before poking his head out into the landing. “Dallon, you can come in now.”

“You got the torches?” Ryan hissed urgently at Patrick. Patrick nodded.

A tall teen boy walked into the room, nervous. He had brown hair, dark eyes and really did resemble a baby giraffe. 

“Hey…” his voice was quiet. “I’m Dallon…”

“Please, Dallon,” said Ryan placidly, “take a seat.” The grin that spread across his face in that moment was truly the most terrifying thing Gerard had seen in his short life.

Dallon obliged with a gulp, eyeing Brendon, who’s arms had just been grabbed by the ‘fro team. (Ray and Joe) 

Patrick tossed a torch towards Pete, who missed it, and Mikey was hit in the face. 

“Oh shoot. Sorry Mikey!” Patrick said under his breath, trying to retain the quiet, intimidating atmosphere. Mikey rolled his eyes and handed the torch to Pete.

“It was Pete’s fault, don’t worry about it.”

Pete scooted towards Dallon, wheels on spinny chair screeching.

“Shut up!” Ryan whisper-yelled, seemingly at the chair.

“Anyway,” said Pete, flicking the switch of the torch and shining it in Dallon’s face, “Tell us about yourself, son. What do you do for a living?”

Dallon squinted at Pete. “Go to school.”

Pete chewed on his lip. “Very well. But will you be able to support our daughter financially?”

“My parents don’t like Brendon very much…” Dallon gulped.

Ryan rubbed an imaginary moustache. “I don’t blame them. Now, how do we know we can trust you?”

“I…uh…ask somebody?”

They all looked at Brendon. “He’s very trustworthy,” he said.

“Hmm. We’ll have to think about that one,” murmured Pete. “Anyway, why are you…attracted…to our daughter?”

“Honestly,” Patrick added. “Do tell. We’re all quite curious on what you see in him.”

“Is it the forehead? The asshole personality? We’re all dying to know,” said Ryan.

“Uh…he’s really sweet, and caring. Beneath the whole egotistical façade, he always is really selfless. He has a great sense of humour, he’s really-“

“Alright, okay, gross.” Pete made a face. “I really don’t wanna think about Brendon that way.”

“Ew. Now, finally; what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?” Patrick leaned close to Dallon.

“I like to play my bass, I like art, I like to write and listen to music…the usual.” Patrick hummed in agreement.

“You can keep him,” Gerard said to Brendon, nodding approvingly. “Pete?”

“I like him. I like bass. Patrick?”

“Yep.”

“Joe? Andy? Ray? Mikey? Frank?” They all agreed.

“Ryan. Your call.”

Ryan squinted at Dallon suspiciously, before turning to Pete. “Yeah, I approve. He seems decent.” His gaze fell back on Dallon. “Just a heads up, this guy has been through way too much. If you do anything other than help him and make him happy, we will all come after you.” He grinned, extending a hand. “I’m Ryan.”

Dallon shook his hand, slightly taken aback, slightly amused. “Don’t worry about it.”

Joe and Ray released Brendon, who brushed off his jacket, shaking his head.

“You’re all dicks,” he remarked matter-of-factly.

“Suck my milky ass, Urie.”

“I thought we were over all that, Ryan.” They both burst out laughing.

“Don’t ask. For the sake of your innocence. Or sanity,” Pete murmured in Dallon’s vague direction. 

“Anyway,” Brendon grabbed Dallon’s arm, draping his own around the tall boy’s shoulder. “This is Ryan,” he pointed his other arm at Ryan. “He’s rad. We dated once, but that was ages ago. We’re cool now. And this,” he pointed at them all in turn, “This is Patrick. He’s adorable, he likes hats. This is Pete, his best friend. Pete is a disgusting emo idiot and I hate him from the bottom of my heart. That’s Pete’s boyfriend, Mikey. He likes unicorns, and that’s pretty much all you need to know about him. That there is Gerard, Mikey’s elder brother. He’s a nerd. That’s Frank, Gerard’s boyfriend.” 

Gerard smiled at that. Frank. His boyfriend. HIS.

“Frank’s pretty cool. His hobbies include sharing spit with Gerard while I’m trying to find an apple to eat in the kitchen. Still disturbed, tbh.” Brendon shook his head. “That’s Joe. He’s good friends with Frank. He has cool hair. That’s Ray, he also has cool hair. I am not at a liberty to reveal whose hair I prefer, because that would probably cause world war three. And that’s Andy. He’s fabulous.”  
Dallon nodded, smiling shyly at them all.

“Would it be cool if I hung out with you guys more often?”

Frank laughed, tilting his head. Oh god. That laugh. “The guys act all intimidating, but trust me, we all like you. We’re all a massive bunch of nerds. We’re probably the most unthreatening bunch of people you could stumble across.”

Dallon smiled warmly at Frank, a silent thank you in his eyes.

“Welcome to the most insane gang in the whole of America,” Brendon grinned, looking at his boyfriend teasingly. “We hope you enjoy your stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy joe trohman's birthday
> 
> im going back to school on Thursday so updates will go back to being slow sorry
> 
> today I discovered that just hearing ryan ross sing makes me cry a lot im v lame (son pls make more music)


	24. THE EPIC PLAN part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS AN EPIC PLAN part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thirty five years ago yesterday, the great king of unicorns was born into this world.
> 
> happy (belated) birthday, Michael James Way

It was six am, and Gerard Way had an idea.

When people say that the best ideas come to you while you shower, they’re not making it up. Gerard concluded that his slightly uninspired existence was simply down to the fact that he didn’t shower enough. 

Wow, that explained so much.

Anyway, it was six am, and Gerard Way had an idea.

He was casually scrubbing at his armpits when he remembered Frank’s birthday and swore loudly. It was quite hard to forget Frank’s birthday, with it being on Halloween and all, but Gerard was a slightly dipsy nerd with plenty of things to worry about, so it slipped his mind. 

It was when he skidded on a bar of soap that had dropped when the idea hit. He had been pondering cellabration ideas, while wondering why he always remembered important dates at the most inconvenient times, when an image floated into his mind.

Lying in the bathtub, a dull throb coming from where he had hit his hip, he began to formulate a plan. A plan that involved a skeleton, a lot of makeup, some money, and, of course, Frank Iero.

But who could help?

-

“Mikey, I need your help.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Honestly, I’m desperate here. I need you.”

“Ask Grandma.”

“I’m going to, but I need you too.”

“Lol. Nope.”

Gerard sighed loudly. This conversation was going nowhere. “This is about Frank’s birthday. Frank helped me a lot when it came to your birthday,” (did all the work and shepherded a sleep-deprived, coffee-driven Gerard around) “so you owe him. Also, you know I’m hopeless at this. I’ll let you invite Pete around. And I’ll buy you as much Pumpkin Spice as you like?”

Mikey perked up suddenly. 

“Consider me your new personal manager.”

-

This was a full-on operation.

After school, everybody apart from Frank was sprawled across beanbags in Gerard’s basement bedroom. Even a slightly baffled Dallon was there, as well as Spencer and Jon, who were apparently fairly good friends with Frank.

Brendon was talking animatedly to the three of them, and Gerard wasn’t surprised. Brendon knew everybody. Pete was beside Brendon, chatting to Patrick, who seemed to have a loose arm wrapped around Joe, who was dazing contentedly. Andy was chatting to Ray, probably about the art of being too fabulous to function, like seriously, you cannot get more fabulous than the two of them. And Ryan had disappeared somehow, which disconcerted Gerard more than he could comprehend. 

Mikey stood at the front, clearing his throat all of a sudden. All the heads snapped to attention, as Mikey unveiled a flipchart with several pieces of paper.

He produced a pointer thing from seemingly nowhere and pointed it at all of them, pacing back and forth menacingly.

“Right, you sorry bunch. You better listen up or-“

He was interrupted as Joe yawned, obnoxiously loud. “Where’s Ryan?”

Upon hearing his name, Ryan leapt out of nowhere, yelling unintelligible war cries directly into Gerard’s ear. Gerard screamed louder and more high-pitched than he would care to admit.

Mikey rolled his eyes, tutting as Ryan laughed his head off, earning him death glares from Gerard.

“Right, do you want my help or not? You better not interrupt me or-“

“Sorry for interrupting that time, Mikey,” Joe said sweetly. Patrick chuckled, pulling the grinning boy closer. 

“Be nice, Joe.”

“OTP,” Ryan whispered into his ear, scaring the living shit out of Gerard the second time that day.

Mikey gave a frustrated, melodramatic sigh while Pete laughed at his facial expression. “Anyway. As you all know, we are gathered here today because Frank Iero’s birthday is coming up.” Using a pointer, he gestured to a crude sketch of Frank in a party hat, courtesy of Gerard, yelling ‘Halloween!’ happily. Mikey flipped to the next page, pointing with his pointer stick.

“Gerard,” potato-shaped drawing with gross hair and a large ‘nerd’ label, “is a dork. And he wants to go out of his way to make sure his boyfriend has the best day ever.” Smiley face with arrows leading to other pictures, which Mikey’s pointer now focused on. “Here we have some ideas on how to accomplish that. Number One: Gerard and Frank make sweet love.” Gerard couldn’t help but flush a scarlet colour, flustered.

“I vote Number One,” Ryan piped up, raising a hand.”

“We’re not…“ Mikey looked extremely exasperated.

“I vote Number One. Gerard, I can lend you some milk if you like.”

“No thank you.” Gerard shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, Mikey; the rest of the ideas?”

Mikey perked up a little at the thought of using his pointer, so enthusiastically pointed at the second awkward illustration. “Number Two, huge Halloween party. Number Three, lotsa money to give t Frank. And Number Four; an open suggestion type thing; some kind of surprise. Anyway, what do you all vote?”

“My favourite idea is…” Pete seemed to think for a moment. “My Chemical Romance.”

“Because who needs bands when you can have an idea instead, you get me?”

“I think we should have a massive party for him. A surprise party. With lots of money. And Gerard making sweet love to Frank.” Patrick piped up.

“You know how some people hire strippers for somebody’s birthday?” said Brendon. Gerard didn’t like where this was going.

Everybody nodded. “We could get Gerard to do that.” 

There was a long silence that made Gerard squirm uncomfortably. 

“Brendon Urie,” Pete said slowly, “That is the best idea somebody with a pea-sized brain like yours has come up with. Ever.”

They were all gaping.

“How are we going to do that, though?” said the Jon guy Gerard had never spoken to, ever. “Sneak him through the window?”

Joe and Ryan exchanged knowing glances. “I think it’s best if we do that part elsewhere.”

Now, Gerard might’ve had a brain as pea-sized as Brendon Urie, with a train wreck he liked to call his social skills, but living his entire life with Mikey had meant he had picked up a few skills on reading people, and, more importantly, putting two and two together. 

Frank mentioned many things offhandedly, because Frank didn’t have a little brother who could figure out every thought crammed into your mind from the way that you itch your nose. Gerard knew that Frank’s home life was complicated at best, but Gerard also had managed to grasp a difficult concept called privacy. And if there was anybody who he respected to the ends of the earth, it was Frank Iero.

He was snapped out of his daydream by Ryan’s voice. “I know. I can invite him to stay over at mine for the night, then you can surprise him. My mom’s pretty chill; she won’t question an ugly stripper coming in at seven in the morning.” They all gave him a sceptical look. “…well…not that much.”

Gerard sighed. They all seemed to be on a different wavelength. “I would just like to remind you all, I haven’t actually agreed to this yet.”

Mikey sighed in an almost perfect imitation of his brother. “Will you dress up as a stripper slash prostitute for your boyfriend’s birthday?”

“No.”

Mikey shook his head. Pete perked up a little. “It’ll be funny,” he said.

“No.”

“I’ll tell mom that the couch broke because you were dancing to ABBA” Mikey looked his brother dead in the eye, Gerard practically withering under his gaze.

“I thought you swore not to tell!” Gerard was burning up with humiliation.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Gerard buried his head in his hands. “Fine.” His voice was slightly muffled. “Fine. I will dress up as a stripper for my boyfriend’s birthday.” He looked up, giving Ryan a sideways glance. “No sweet love though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the slow updates. im back at school and ive been pretty stressed??? I guess I have lots of homework and I just generally don't feel so good but I really want to thank you because writing helps me wind down and calm down and feel so much better from any shit that may've happened and you have no idea how much every single comment and kudos means. thank you for being the best readers in the world :)


	25. THE PLAN part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prepare for the SKELETON WAR (emma cant let go of memes)

But that wasn’t all.

Gerard’s shower genius was capable of more than just a vague surprise party. Gerard’s shower genius was more outlandish and insane than Brendon Urie on a good day. Gerard’s shower genius had come up with part two of the plan; a ridiculous, improbable, downright dumb part two.

Well, there was a long thought process, much consideration and a fair dose of philosophical depth, but, long story short, Gerard wanted to borrow something from the school.

The something wasn’t just a pencil, or that pot of neon acrylic paint he kept admiring. No. Gerard’s shower idiot wanted the skeleton from biology. 

There was only one flaw in the plan (aside from the whole illegal breaking into the school building and stuff).

Who would be idiotic enough to help him?

-

“Are you okay?”

 

Gerard was lying, face down, on some concrete, having escaped the wrath of his friends and Brendon’s awful idea. But he had more things to worry about.

“Nope,” he said brightly, voice slightly muffled by the concrete.

He felt a hand grasp his shoulder and help haul him up. He looked at the guy who was now looking at him curiously.

“You have stones on your face.”

He had cropped light brown hair and was raising an eyebrow at Gerard. Gerard recognised him from school.

“I’m Tyler. Who are you and what’s the matter?”

Gerard sighed. “I’m Gerard. And I’m trying to organise a birthday surprise for my boyfriend…” 

Gerard rolled the word across his tongue. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. 

He realised with a start Tyler was speaking.

“Gerard Way right? Brother of Mikey Way? Man, I commemorate your brother for being able to put up with Pete Wentz.”

Gerard grinned. “I recognise you now. Tyler Joseph. You always hang around the guy who got suspended for wearing red eyeshadow.”

“Oh yeah. Josh. He and Ryan Ross tried to make a campaign against the guys wearing makeup rule, but I don’t think it happened in the end.”

“That sucks! I would have totally helped.”

Tyler laughed. “I don’t know. Josh did try to get me to draw dicks on my face using eyeliner once, and then I was less eager to support. Anyway, what’s the problem with organising your boyfriend’s surprise party?”

Gerard sighed. “Well, the party bit is quite simple, but, for starters, Brendon Urie suggested I dress up as a stripper for his birthday, and my brother manipulated me to agree. Also, I kind of want to nick the skeleton from biology to use to decorate, because it’ll be Halloween themed.”

Tyler stared at Gerard for a long time, then burst out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I-“

“Do it. Don’t even hesitate. Go do that shit right now. Oh my god.”

Gerard shook his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know anyone stupid enough who’ll help me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, there is one person…” Tyler raised an eyebrow. “My boyfriend.”

“Well, do it with him.”

Gerard paused. “What…?”

Tyler chuckled at his confused expression. “What you’re doing is already mad. What difference will it make? Besides, it’ll be a story to tell the grankids. Also, I have some ski masks you could borrow.”

Gerard looked at the boy beside him, an insane grin spreading across his face.

“Why not?”

-

Gerard dialled a familiar number.

“Hey, sugarcakes,” came that irritating, smug voice that he knew only too well.

“Frank. Have you ever considered breaking into a school?” 

There was a pause. Gerard moistened his lips, anticipating the laughter, the rejection, the teasing.

“Why? Do you want too?”

“Consider it our second date.”

There was another, long, pause.

“Oh hell yes.”

Gerard grinned. Who would break into school without question just because their boyfriend suggested it?

Why, the poltergeist. Gerard’s poltergeist in shining armour. 

-

“Have a ski mask.”

It was nine in the afternoon, and Gerard had brought the loaned masks to cover up the fact that his eyes were the size of the moon. 

Also to protect their identity should they slip up, and to get into the whole moonlit espionage mood.

Frank thanked him sincerely, slipping it over his head. 

“Wow. I feel like I could steal the crown jewels around about now.”

“Same. Anyway, here’s the plan.” Gerard beckoned his boyfriend towards him and hissed a few words into his ear.

“What are we stealing, exactly?” Frank asked, voice loud. Gerard hushed him, ducking his head should there be any enemy spies watching.

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon, I guess.”

Gerard remembered when, a few days ago, Frank had pointed out the skeleton in biology, mentioning its wasted potential as the coolest motherfucking Halloween decoration in the history of the world, before suggesting they steal it. Gerard had laughed it off at the time, but he wondered if Frank would put two ad two together. 

“Let’s go.”

They checked if the coast was clear before vaulting skilfully over the fence, like the finely-tuned ninjas they were.

Well, Frank nearly impaled himself, whereas Gerard didn’t even make it over.

“Frank!” Gerard hissed. “Frank, I’m stuck! Help, please!”

Frank, meanwhile, nearly shit himself. He doubled over, wheezing with laughter.

“Frank!” Gerard said urgently, beginning to panic.

“Oh my god. You’re stuck. Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I have seen, ever! Oh my god.” Frank resumed his laughing fit, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“FRANK!” Gerard yelled.

“Alright, alright, I’m helping you. Oh my god! You got…stuck…on the…” Frank started giggling again. Adorable as his giggle was, Gerard couldn’t get down. 

Finally, Gerard was rescued, after much laughter and irritation from his direction. 

“These masks are itchy.” Gerard rolled his eyes and took Frank’s off, giggling a little at his messed-up hair. He took his own off too and stuffed them into the convenient spy backpack.

“Okay. Science block,” said Gerard, doing a spy roll and jumping back onto his feet and making a Charlie’s Angels style pose.

Frank tried to mimick him, instead tripping up Gerard. They landed in a heap.

“Fucker,” muttered the taller boy.

“You love it.”

“Damn it. You got me.” Gerard pinned down Frank with an arm, grabbing his chin and kissing him firmly.

Frank sighed into the kiss, tilting his head slightly and grasping onto Gerard’s hair. Gerard pulled them both upwards, cupping Frank’s jaw, fingers gentle. He traced Frank’s spine with his other hand, moving his lips in a fast rhythm.

Frank licked at Gerard’s bottom lip slightly, making the elder sigh and grant Frank access. Their tongues danced, exploring each other’s mouths in a wild sequence of passion.

Frank tugged gently at Gerard’s hair and he moaned loudly. Frank broke the kiss.

“We should stop,” he said. “I don’t want to lose my virginity just outside my English classroom.”

Gerard nodded silently, giving Frank’s lips a final loving peck, and they continued down the corridor, eventually reaching the science block.

It was perfect, really. The skeleton was in the store cupboard. The store cupboard had a window. Below the window was a dumpster.

“Frank. I need you to stay out here.”

“Why?”

Gerard looked up at his eager, confused boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry, Frank.” Gerard sighed. “I just need you to trust me on this one.”

Frank looked up, confused.

“Please. I’ll only be a minute, and it doesn’t matter what I’m doing. You’ll find out soon enough, anyway. Please? For me?”

“Okay.” Frank looked at his shoes. “Okay. For you.”

Gerard gazed at the adoring boy, the sweet, caring, wonderful boy, the boy he could call his own. Devoted, sensitive, brilliant, broken. As broken as he was.

There was a strange companionship that came alongside pain. If you have ever been through a hard time, you are more likely to remember the people you loved then than the people you loved a few years before. And when you share pain, you bind together; it’s so beautiful, in a twisted, fucked up way.

Pain was the purest of emotions. Then love.

He gave Frank the tiniest of kisses on his button nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I went to a friends party and she's like good friends with all the stereotypical emos who im too socially awkward to make friends with but at one point somebody started singing "when I was...a young boy" and everybody joined in I have a video on my phone im pretty sure I cried


	26. school sucks, i know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that chapter title is maybe an adapted blink-182 lyric? whenever I say that I say it to the tune of all the small things so there you go

School.

That arrangement of letters held great power. That arrangement of letters could make the average person scowl, or become irritated, or fill them with dread. More often than not, it would make their pulse raise, their mouth dry, their stomach churn. That arrangement of letters, quite simply, scared multiple people shitless.

This was what was happening with Gerard Way.

Although it seemed insignificant at the time, word of their date on Saturday would’ve gotten out. 

Well that couldn’t be that big of a deal. Really, how bad could it be?

Oh, only disastrous, of course.

He was stood outside the school, shuddering at the thought of what lay in wait. The jocks hated him and Frank. Obviously, they hated Pete, but had little problems with Mikey, who tended to wisely keep his head down. He was probably the most intelligent person, like, ever, but maybe that was just the contrast with Gerard, who had a habit of getting a little hot-headed.

He would be teased, laughed a, jeered at, mocked. He was used to it. But that didn’t make it any easier. 

The looming building had looked so much less terrifying under the veil of darkness last night. When there was nobody to make fun of him. When Frank was beside him.

His palms were beginning to sweat.

“Come ON, you fuck. We don’t have all day.” Mikey pulled on his sleeve, impatient. 

“Yeah…”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Look, Gerard. You’ll be fine. I’m scared too; you know how much they all hate Pete, and I don’t know how much more he can take. But we’re better than that. We can’t let their plan work. We have each other, okay? And I am happier than I have been for a long time. I’m sure you are too.”

Gerard worried at his bottom lip.

Mikey sighed, irritable. “I know you are. I know you, Gerard. Frank had changed your life. You smile more. Your eyes light up every single time you see him. The only reason you met him is because of the soccer team, okay? And he cares about you. He’s not going to abandon you now. We’ll all be okay.”

Gerard sighed, silently reviewing the situation. “Okay,” he said eventually.

“Now come on.” Mikey dragged his elder brother into the school.

“Wait. Uh, Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Mikey smiled.

-

Gerard sat in his science class feeling vaguely suicidal.

It wasn’t a secret; Gerard Way hated people. He hated them with a burning passion. He, quite simply, thought humanity was a waste of time and effort.

Dammit, God.

Everywhere around him, people were jeering and bullying him. He had heard a fair few threats, multiple sounds of disgust, and a positively infinite amount of homophobic slurs.

He sighed.

A figure appeared by his side, his hair a light red.

“You’re Frank’s boyfriend, huh?” he asked, shy.

Gerard looked up. “You’re Josh, huh?”

“Yeah. Tyler told me about you.”

“Well, nice to meet you. I like your hair.” Gerard wanted hair like that.

“Thank you. Nice to meet you too. What exactly did you do to aggravate them so bad?” He pointed behind him at the bunch of jocks, who were bustling like a mob of angry peasants with pitchforks.

“It’s a long story. Frank scared them all away once, when they were trying to beat me up; actually how I met him. They loathe me and my friends for many reasons. I sassed Adam on Saturday when he saw me and Frank on a date, and then Frank stood up to him. Oh, and my brother is dating the captain of the soccer team.”

Josh whistled. “Oh dear.”

Gerard sighed deeply as more threats were thrown at him. “Yeah.”

“Well, any time you need to intimidate them with a massive group of nerds or something, you know where to find me and Tyler, we’ll always be willing to help.”

That sentence planted a tiny seed in Gerard’s head.

Revenge.

-

“Hey.”

Gerard whipped around as a whisper tickled his ear. There, beckoning him from a tiny corner beside some lockers, was Frank Iero.

Gerard slipped beside him, smiling widely. “Missed you.”

Frank grinned, blushing as he studied his shoes. “Missed you too. How’s the day been treating you?”

“I hate people.”

“Same.”

Frank smirked, winding a sneaky arm around Gerard’s waist.

“So, am I ever gonna find out what our epic ninja spy plan was for?” Frank asked, throwing Gerard the puppy eyes. God, Gerard could stare into those eyes forever.

“Patience, Iero,” he scolded as the smaller boy leaned into him, still looking up innocently.

Gerard sighed. He was just so…gorgeous.

“What you thinking about?”

“You.”

Frank gave that devilish grin. “What about me?”

“I’m thinking about how I cannot wait to murder you, cook you, and then feast on your flesh.

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “Kinky,” he deadpanned, and they both burst out laughing.

“But what were you really thinking about?”

“Are you suggesting I’m not cut out to be a cannibal?” Gerard pretended to be offended.

“You’re kidding yourself, Way. What were you really thinking about?!”

“Well, you. And how happy I am to be here with you.”

Frank grinned, his expression one of sheer, plain delight. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered, voice low.

Gerard blushed, staring at his feet.

“Oh my lord. You are adorable!” Frank cried, proceeding to hug Gerard tightly.

Gerard blushed again. “I’m really not.” 

“Don’t fucking argue with me. You’re adorable and hot and beautiful and smart and funny and sweet and holy shit, Gerard, you are amazing.”

Gerard was the colour of a beetroot now. Did Frank really think all that?

“Look at me, Gerard.” Frank grabbed at the tall boy’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You are amazing. Okay?”

Gerard didn’t respond, and Frank sighed. “We should probably get going.”

He unwound his arm and began to join the bustle of the corridor, separating himself from Gerard, avoiding the glances of jocks.

Gerard couldn’t face it any longer.

“Frank! Wait!”

Frank turned around, hope painted across his face.

“Come here.”

Frank walked back the way he had came, standing beside Gerard. He seemed to lean away slightly, however.

Gerard eyed the jock who was frowning at him.

“Frank.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold my fucking hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I have had a groundbreaking idea
> 
> what if they put powdered milk in teabags
> 
> so you would have to do anything apart from put the teabag in the water
> 
> I am a genius


	27. ryan ross is a beautiful, wise, perfect asshole; joe and patrick are in love; patrick is naked; gerard doesn't understand the references; everything is wonderful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im not even gonna apologise for my slow updates. sorry, but, if you gotta problem, you can suck my arse. love you all. 
> 
> I am genuinely sorry though

Gerard Way was sitting nervously on the edge of a sofa, watching with mild concern as a tallish boy with a dumb haircut raced around the room, explaining his plans for Frank’s birthday.

It was, of course, Ryan Ross, everybody’s favourite annoying scarf enthusiast. He was yelling instructions at Gerard, whose selective hearing seemed to be playing up that day, unfortunately.

“Gerard, are you listening?”

“No.”

“We’re supposed to be decorating the house…oh my god, what’s the point. What do you think I should wear?”

It’s Almost Halloween. In fact, it was the day before Halloween, and Frank was coming in exactly an hour. 

“I know! I’ll wear black slacks with accentuating off-white pinstripes. Everything’ll go according to plan.”

Gerard was too busy not listening to catch the reference, of course. Also, panic! at the disco didn’t exist, so he wouldn’t have got it, anyway.

The skeleton was in the basement, where the plan would take place. The skeleton wasn’t the only thing in the basement; there was an array of cheap Halloween decorations. Also, Joe and Patrick where alone in there, so Gerard wasn’t exactly keen to leave Ryan, irritating he was.

Gerard sighed.

“Should we get decorating, then?” he said flatly, defeated.

“Oh my god. It speaks,” Ryan scowled, and Gerard threw a cushion at him.

Ryan was alright. He was quite similar to Brendon, except much shyer, and very withdrawn. However, they had spent so much time together, that Gerard was getting to know the teen quite well. 

“Okay, go get that piece of paper over there please. That was all we established during last week’s meeting.”

Gerard picked it up and skimmed over the spidery handwriting, instantly recognisable as Mikey’s. “Nice,” he said, clicking his tongue.

“And that box? We got all of the stuff we need. And the only thing you have to worry about…” Ryan grinned, opening the box and rummaging around for a moment.

Gerard’s worst fears were confirmed when Ryan pulled out a garish, feathered outfit, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

-

“I would knock I were you.”

Gerard had been in Ryan’s presence for nearly two hours now, and all the milk puns and sarcasm had amounted, to the point where Gerard wasn’t sure who he wanted to throw off a cliff more; Ryan or himself.

He glared in the direction of the boy, but was barely able to see over the edge of the box he was carrying. Ryan, of course, wasn’t carrying anything, and yet waited for him to open the door.

They had built up enough courage to start decorating the basement for the bulk of the surprise party, burying their fear of seeing something scarring, dirty and inappropriate, like Patrick Stump holding hands with someone. Ryan was adamant that the other two had a little something between them, and Gerard trusted Ryan. Painful as it had been, Gerard had learnt a lot while in Ryan’s presence.

Ryan was best friends with both Frank and Joe. He had given Gerard a few tips on Frank, and he knew Joe so well that he was probably right about him and Patrick. His wisdom didn’t make Ryan any less of an aggravating person though.

The basement would be the main part of the surprise party, but Ryan assured him Frank would get a big surprise the moment he stepped through the door. Gerard’s job was to sneak into Ryan’s house in a strippers outfit as soon as Ryan called him, to confront Frank and “have some cheeky bum secks”. Then Frank would spend a little time with his mom, before Gerard got changed, took Frank out on the lunchtime of his life, get him back to Ryan’s at exactly six ‘o’ clock, get changed again, bring him in, and lo, birthday surprise slash gift slash celebration complete.

Gerard glared at Ryan. “You knock.”

“Scared, Potter?”

“No, I physically CANNOT knock, as you have given me EVERYTHING!”

“Drama queen.” Ryan forgot about knocking, simply kicking the door and hurting his foot.

Gerard cackled and stumbled down the stairs, rolling his eyes as he heard a surprised yelp. On the sofa, Joe and Patrick sat on opposite ends, both blushing furiously. Patrick’s fedora was on the ground.

“Is Ryan okay?” Patrick said, voice unusually high.

Gerard watched as the door creaked open and Ryan pocked a disgruntled head round.

“Well, if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say….”

Gerard was too busy laughing to catch the reference. Also, my chemical romance didn’t exist, so he wouldn’t have got it, anyway.

And thus, the four of them decorated to their hearts content. They created a paradise of horror; a haven for all things ghastly; a haven for teenage boys. And also some ghosts, of course.

When Frank laid eyes on it, it would be more than he bargained for, Gerard thought.

Gerard was actually aware of that reference, as he was the one who made it. However, fall out boy didn’t exist, so nobody got it, anyway.

The point was, Gerard couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Frank was special. And his birthday was going to be out of this world; at least, if Gerard had anything to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for my shitty humour throughout this fic. im trash lmao
> 
>  
> 
> anyway in media studies we had to make a movie poster using photoshop and me and my friend made one where lana del rey and brendon urie fell in love. in space. it was spectacular. it had Justin beiber. and Patrick stump. and the grinch. it was the best thing, ever.


	28. i literally love mikey so fuckin much like whoa there chill can you just stop being so perfect it's making everyone else feel bad about themselves jfc have some respect ew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess who should be asleep hahahahahhahaha ha aha ahhahah haahhah haha ha h a

Halloween.

Halloween is, by far, the best celebration, and doesn’t every teen nerd know it. It trumps Christmas, birthdays, Easter; Halloween is, undeniably, far superior.

Another reason why Halloween is so special is the fact that it’s, of course, Frank Iero’s birthday. This, if possible, heightens the importance on any emo’s agenda, especially Gerard Way’s.

It’s seven in the morning, and he is freaking out ever-so-slightly. That’s the problem with caring about people; you get worried. You get anxious. You want things to be perfect.

Gerard knew that it was technically more trouble than it’s worth. But Gerard Way sure isn’t one for technicalities. Maybe people weren’t worth the effort. Maybe people would cause nothing but misery, pain and suffering to him. But the most astonishing, beautiful thing was that, despite that, Gerard was prepared to run the risk.

For Frank.

-

“Gerard. I don’t mean this in a cruel or mean way. But…what the fuck are you wearing?”

All Mikey Way wanted was a cup of coffee. Maybe some toast, too. And, if you were offering, he would also greatly appreciate a pet unicorn, and some money, and a mansion, and that pair of jeans he had been hinting at whenever he and Gerard went to the mall.

The point was, Mikey’s motives for going downstairs in the morning were perfectly innocent and normal. So when his eyes were assaulted by his elder brother wearing a feathered monstrosity that could’ve left much more to the imagination, he was a little surprised, to say the least.

However, Mikey Way had been Gerard’s brother for a long time. He was generally used to bizarre and scarring things happening in his presence. Not to mention Mikey has more chill than, like, Pluto. But seeing Gerard in a strippers outfit? None of that had prepared him, to be honest.

“Happy Halloween, Mikes.” Gerard watched as his brother recoiled in shock. He briefly considered hiding his horribly chubby stomach, before realising that it was Mikey. Mikey was the person in the world least likely to judge his weight, or even notice it.

Gerard was right. Mikey didn’t give a shit about Gerard’s body, or how many doughnuts he binged ate two days ago. He was more concerned about the dark hair that was slightly visible from behind the lacy fabric.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that, though,” said Mikey, trying to look anywhere but there.

“Ha. Ryan made me. Ha. I hate you.”

“That’s lovely, Gerard, but I am more concerned about how I can see your pubes, and it’s the most disgusting thing since, like….Donald Trump.”

Gerard sighed. “I know. But, it’s kinda the point though.”

“To disgust your boyfriend?”

Gerard sighed again, sipping his coffee. His gut churned. “I was kind of referring to the whole teasing thing.” Mikey made a face. “But Frank would be disgusted anyway, probably.”

Mikey rolled his eyes so far back that he could see his brain cells die. “Hey, here’s an idea, Gerard. Try and quit the whole self-hatred thing. What are you talking about though?”

Gerard blushed, not wanting to dump his problems on Mikey, not wanting to be an attention-seeker, not wanting to be that person that pretends to be all messed up and lonely. He really, honestly didn’t want to cause a fuss.

“Gerard?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, you idiot. Now tell me. You can trust me, I won’t judge you for a second.”

Gerard squirmed, uncomfortable. “My weight,” he said, voice quiet.

Mikey almost chuckled. “You think you’re too fat?”

Gerard nodded guiltily.

“Gerard, let me tell you a thing. You are amazing. You are the best brother I could ask for. Who cared about your weight?”

Gerard shifted his gaze, awkward.

“Frank cares about you, Gerard. Now get out of that brooding black hole of self-hatred. It’s your boyfriend’s birthday! I want you to go out there and make this day into one you’ll never forget. Make it your own, Gerard. Knock ‘em dead. Hang ‘em out to dry. You can do it, okay?”

Just on cue, a beep came from outside. Gerard grabbed a coat from the side and rushed to the front door.

“That’s right. You get you and your pubes outta my kitchen!”

Gerard laughed, looking at his brother briefly.

“Hey, Mikey?” His brother blinked at him. “Thank you. For everything.”

-

Once the official chafer, Brendon, dropped him off at the Ross residence, he spotted a mop of lame unbrushed Beatles hair.

“Quick!” Ryan hissed, beckoning him from the backdoor. “The average time Frank Iero wakes up on his birthday is exactly eight-thirty-six.”

“The average? You calculate that?” Gerard said, laughing.

“Yes,” Ryan said simply, and Gerard’s laughter died in his throat awkwardly. He decided not to ask.

“Okay, here’s the plan. You go up there, wait for him in that…lovely…outfit, I keep watch, give you the cue, you go in and wake him up, and hey presto! One happy freshly-banged birthday-ready spooky-wooky Frank Iero!”

Gerard blushed furiously.

“I will be in Brendon’s car, loudly playing hardcore-stroke-scremo-stoke-death metal to drown out the noises,” he continued happily. “Lube is in the bathroom.”

“STOP!” he yelled, more loudly than intended. Ryan hushed him frantically. 

“Okay. You don’t have to bang him. Losing your virginity on a blow-up bed would kinda suck.”

Gerard’s curiosity got the better of him. “Is Frank a virgin?”

“I was actually referring to you, but yes, as a matter of fact. So is Joe, and Patrick, and Andy, and Ray, and-“

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m not though. I‘m quite experienced, I can-“

“Okay, that’s enough, Ryan.” Ryan looked disappointed. 

“Fine. Just…go. Go now. Do some dancing or something, he’s in the front room. Good luck.”

Gerard looked at him.

“Thanks, Ryan. What you’re doing is pretty rad, you know?”

Ryan gave a small smile. “Frank is one of my best friends. It’s the least I can do.”

-

Gerard stood outside the door, heart racing.

What if Frank didn’t like it? What if he found it weird and not funny?

Anxieties raced around Gerard’s brain, threatening ruin and despair and nightmare and, worst of all, disappointment. Frank needed to like this. Gerard couldn’t ruin it for him.

Frank needed him to kill it. Frank needed him to make him laugh. Frank needed him to make it the best day ever. Frank needed him, NOW.

With a surge of courage, he slipped off the green trench coat-style jacket he had donned and opened the door.

He was met with Frank, lying in a tangle of bedsheets on a make-shift bed, wearing nothing but tiny blue boxers.

Gerard glanced down at himself. Not an outfit you would want a boner in, so he had no time to waste.

He pressed play on a playlist Brendon had sent him, which contained generic strip-club music. Not that Gerard had ever been to a strip club; he would just have to take Brendon’s word for it.

It suddenly occurred to him that Brendon probably shouldn’t know what music they played at strip clubs, but that was the least of his worries currently, because Frank was stirring. 

As the tinny music blasted through his phone, Gerard did some improvised pole dancing; pretty impressive considering that the pole was completely imaginary.

Finally, Frank blinked at Gerard, sleepy. It was easily the most adorable thing Gerard had ever seen, as the small boy ran a hand through his hair as he tried to get his bearings, finally setting his golden orbs on Gerard- particularly his outfit.

“You must be Mr Iero. I am a stripper hired by one of your friends. Have a good birthday stroke Christmas stroke Easter stroke home warming stroke general celebration!”

Frank laughed, and it was music to his ears. “Wow.” Relief flooded over Gerard.

“Wow yourself.”

“Nice outfit.”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“Touché.” They both laughed.

Gerard looked down at his boyfriend, a light in his eyes that could only be happiness. “Happy birthday, you,” he said, quietly, fondly.

Frank closed his eyes, a large, unshameful grin pained across his face. All of a sudden, he pulled Gerard into a crushingly tight hug.

“Me too…but- can’t…breathe!” Frank chucked, releasing Gerard and mumbling an apology. He looked Gerard up and down, and Gerard suddenly started to feel self-conscious and hunched over slightly, staring at the floor.

“But seriously, I am loving the get-up. You should wear this more often.” Gerard laughed, meeting those honey eyes and not seeing the harsh, judgemental stare he had been expecting. Instead, he was met with nothing but love.

Frank seemed to read him like a book. “You’re beautiful, okay? Every inch of you. Every part of you is more than I could ever had asked for.”

Gerard nodded. He didn’t fully believe it, but, just maybe, he was beginning to think that maybe he was good enough. 

And that was a miracle in itself.

He didn’t want to dwell on his insecurities, however. This was Frank’s day. Today, Frank was all that mattered, and Gerard was loving it. Suddenly, he didn’t care about his sadness or his feelings or his regrets or his demons. Today, he only cared about Frank. Frank was the centre of the world, and that was oddly comforting.

“Frank…I…” He trailed off, eyes sweeping across Frank’s perfect features. Frank looked down, shy, nervous. 

Gerard ran his thumb comfortingly across Frank’s chin, lifting it so they were nose to nose, and they shared the sweetest kiss the universe had ever known.

Gerard grabbed Frank’s hand, bowing low. “Now, sir. Are you ready for the best birthday ever?”

Franks eyes shined with a rare, beautiful, crazy joy.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy coming out day guys I should probably tell you all something...... .. . .. I am a dragon no mom its not a phase
> 
> I went to the knitting and stitching show in Alexandria palace in London for a textiles trip; more fun than it sounds  
> I saw a girl in an ATL shirt and I freaked but was too scared to talk to her but my friends made me so I hid behind my tea and was like 'hisorrybutilikeyourshirt' and ran away I was shaking for ages wow emma on point mental health you have there  
> and my friend yelled 'ITS NOT A BAD DICK' then decided to talk to the women who overheard her about knitting and she was giving her dirty looks
> 
> and further news im seeing fall out boy tomorrow and im shatting me pants omG HELP


	29. in which gerard way thinks toast is the mothereffin bees knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *smashes through window* wassup fuckers bet you thought you had seen the last of me
> 
> okay I apologise one thousand times for being a shitty person truth is im not even a person im just a stressed, anxiety-ridden, tired piece of tofu with extreme writers block im sorry ive been feeling like shit recently but im making it through i'll be okay and that's what matters and I would just like to personally thank mikey way for existing also all time low and of course fall out boy for making life seem that bit better
> 
> again, im sorry, but im back now. I love you all, so, so, so very much. this little fanfiction is a tiny piece of my world and you guys make writing it amazing. thank you very much for being the best and most patient readers, like, ever.

Frank’s birthday had only just begun.

Brendon had dropped him off at his mother’s house while Gerard got changed. Now, it was two in the afternoon, and Gerard was standing outside Frank’s home, his eyes, respectively, not the size of the moon.

He had never been inside, and was painfully nervous for the second time that day. Frank’s home life…probably wasn’t 100% stable. Gerard was observant, especially regarding people that mattered to him.

He raised a hesitant hand and knocked firmly.

The door was opened by a women with Frank’s face, but older and bitterer. Purple lipstick covered her sour mouth, and her eyes were dull and empty.

“May I help you?” she said carefully.

“Um, I’m here to pick up Frank…”

Frank appeared in the doorway beside his mother, a flash of emotions crossing his face. First excitement, then confusion, then concern.

“Uh, Mom, this is my, uh, friend Gerard.” Frank rubbed the back off his neck, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m going out with my friends for a birthday thing.”

Frank’s mom narrowed her eyes. Those eyes, so similar to the ones Gerard loved, but so much more tired and empty.

“Okay. Have fun, sweetie. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Take care of him….Gerard…” Frank’s mother frowned at her son, suspicion imminent.

“Let’s go,” Gerard said, uncomfortable.

-

“Lunch is, surely, the best meal of the day.”

Gerard frowned at his boyfriend. “Are you kidding me? Have you ever had this magical thing called cereal? Or even toast? Man, I sure do love toast.”

“But with lunch, it’s like, hey, food and friends and you and school’s nearly over and it just fills me with joy.”

“But TOAST!” Frank’s brain sure did work in mysterious ways, Gerard thought.

“I didn’t have any breakfast today. Too busy being seduced by you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Frank leaned towards Gerard, and, voice husky, whispered into his ear. “Means I sure am hungry.” 

Gerard shivered. All he wanted in that moment was to throw Frank against the wall and stick his dick in his mouth or something, but apparently it wasn’t even socially acceptable for them to hold hands, so he doubted that would go down very well. 

“Come on, asshole.” Gerard avoided eye contact with his boyfriend, dragging him towards the fancy restaurant he had splashed out on. 

“I’m an asshole…?” Oh my god. Gerard wanted to eat the soul of whoever decided innuendoes should be a thing.

“Frank, no.”

“Frank yes,” he said quietly. Gerard simply shoved him into the nearest seat and smiled politely at the waitress, who was eyeing them with slight apprehension.

“Would you like a menu, sir?” Gerard took them and thanked her, before turning back to his boyfriend.

“Alone at a table for two, and I just wanna be served.”

“I’m sorry, your lordship, am I not sitting down fast enough for you?” Gerard sassed, drawing out the chair in slow motion.

“Mmm, call me that again, Gerard.” Gerard threw a menu at his head. “Okay, I’m sorry, please sit down.”

Gerard sighed. Frank presumed it was with irritation, but Gerard was actually so content and genuinely happy that it was become too much. He had this beautiful boyfriend and these amazing friends and this incredible brother and, hey, maybe things weren’t perfect but they were good and good is enough. 

Frank was enough. Was he enough?

It was like one of those moments in a movie, where, all of a sudden, all the chattering and noise in the background fades away and the main character gazes at their significant other, the centre of the muted chaos, who is staring up at them with eyes brimming with something that looks an awful lot like love.

Maybe. Maybe, he was at least a little worth it.

He looked at the hurt, broken boy in front of him. The boy who was not okay, the boy who managed to laugh and joke and care regardless. 

There is something undeniably romantic about the situation. Frank never deserved hardship. Frank was, at the end of the day, just another human. But he meant the world to Gerard. Gerard would sacrifice anything to take away the hardship, the weight on this insignificant human’s tiny body. Because, to anybody else, Frank was nothing special. But to Gerard, every kind word and smile and chuckle and glimmer of those golden eyes meant so much, and it was beautiful.

They say that the saddest people are the kindest. Gerard agreed.

-

After a pleasant meal of laughter, awful puns and a competition to see who could piss off the homophobic waitress the most, it was time to move on.

“Where now?” Frank asked. Gerard smiled.

“The mall. Come on!”

They arrived at the huge building and both immediately made a beeline to the nearest coffee shop. 

“We have literally just eaten,” Frank said, tone matter of fact.

“Yeah. What do you want?” Frank rolled his eyes and batted his boyfriend. Gerard gripped the shorter’s shoulder and led him to table.

“Sit. Read the menu. Pick from all the- IS THAT MUSE?!”

Both boys froze as a familiar melody came floating through the speakers in the tiny café.

“OH MY GOD IT’S MUSE.”

“OH GOD IT IS.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“THIS IS SPECTACULAR.”

“I’M GOING TO CRY.”

“DON’T CRY…”

“GERARD, NO.”

“CRAFT!1!1!1!”

“OH MY GOD MUSE THOUGH.”

“I AGREE WHOLEHEARTEDLY.”

Eventually, as the song drew to a close, the entire café was staring at them.

“Can I help, sir, ma’am?” The barista said, staring at them curiously.

“Uh, we’ll be just a moment.” Gerard turned to Frank. “Does he think I’m a girl?”

Frank sniggered. “Those jeans are tight enough.”

“Go fuck a whale.”

“I think he does. Are you a girl?” Frank asked the question with genuine curiosity.

Gerard considered this. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Fair enough.” Frank turned to the man behind the counter who had sort of misgendered Gerard. “Can I get two coffees to go, please?”

Meanwhile, Gerard was lost in thought. He had always had vague gender identity troubles, but he was the kind of person who took all of his deep, personal confusions and blatantly ignored him. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know his sexuality properly; he just liked Frank, Frank had a dick, he had a dick, simple.

As for his gender, he really didn’t know. He was comfortable with his pronouns, but he maybe wasn’t all boy.

At the end of the day, did all that matter? He was Gerard. He was who he was, and he loved who he loved.

“Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

-

They felt immortal.

In that moment, it felt as if anything was possible. As if their hearts were filled with air, bobbing on the ceiling like runaway balloons. It was one of those moments where nothing mattered, where the world was faraway and the future didn’t exist and it was wonderful.

They sat inside the café from before, various purchases from their trip scattered around their feet. After a brief argument about who got to sit there, they both squished together on one of those weird leather sofas every single coffee shop had, arms a tangle.

Another song was playing from thee crackly speakers. Gerard hadn’t ever heard of it, but they were both getting into the easy, bittersweet melody.

“I know my soul’s freezing, Hell’s hot for good reason,” Gerard sung gently, gazing up at Frank’s big doe eyes.

Frank half-shut his eyes, swaying with Gerard, large smile across his face. Gerard just watching, and his heart warmed at the mere sight of the boy that mattered so much.

“Frank?”

Frank opened his eyes slowly, confused. He smiled slightly, looking at the older boy’s serious face.

Gerard took a deep breath, dilemma and anxiety twisting through his brain. Was it true? Did he really feel that way towards Frank, already?

He felt a swelling in his chest, as if his soul was pulling him towards the shorter boy. It was time enough.

“Frank, I l-“

All of a sudden, there was a bang from the back of the shop, and both their heads whipped around.

A figure emerged from the room, hair wild. 

“Sorry about th- FRANK!”

Frank’s mouth dropped open. “JAMIA!”

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages! Happy birthday!”

Frank chuckled. “Thanks. I can’t believe you remembered!”

“It’s a pretty hard date to forget.” She turned her black mop towards the back room. “Hey, Lynz! You can come out now!”

There was another crash as a second figure emerged, taller this time, wearing a red check shirt over her long legs and knobbly knees. Her lipsticked mouth smiled in Jamia’s direction as she picked her way towards them.

Okay, Gerard was pretty darn gay and found it incredibly hard to be attracted to females, but gosh darn was Lindsey pretty.

“I like your shirt,” Gerard said quietly.

She looked down, as if to check what shirt she was wearing. It was worn and had Led Zepplin printed in tall, faded letters.

“Thanks. I’m Lynz. Nice to meet you.”

“Gerard,” Gerard said, shaking her hand.

“Sorry, Gerard, I should introduce you guys properly. Gerard, this is Jamia, we’ve been friends for like forever, and that’s Lynz. We’ve been friends for a long while too, and she’s basically Jamia’s sidekick.”

“I am not a sidekick.”

“You totally are.”

“Gosh fucking darn it, Jamia. I am not a sidekick.”

Frank cleared his throat. “Anyway, Jamia, Lynz, this is my boyfriend, Gerard.”

They both let out loud squeals. 

“OH MY GOD FRANKIE!”

“YOU NEVER TOLD US!”

Gerard sat there stiffly as they fawned over the both of them, cursing God for not providing him with adequate social skills. Was it even possible to curse God?

Frank laughed slightly, looking at Gerard’s uncomfortable mannerism. He took Gerard’s hand and squeezed it, tight. A wave of reassurance washed through him. “It’s okay,” he said softly, breath tickling Gerard’s earlobe in a way that made Gerard’s skin tingle. “They won’t judge you for a single moment. It’s time enough for me to show you off to the world.”

Gerard held Frank’s hand in his, thinking about what the smaller boy said. How much did Frank mean that?

Gerard wanted nothing more than to drag his tiny punk boyfriend by the hand out into the harsh light of reality, and kiss him for all the world to see. He wanted to scream ‘I love you’ at the top of his lungs…but he was scared that someone else will hear him.

He was trapped in a cycle from waning to show Frank off to the world, then wondering if the world needed to know, if the world had anything to do with it. If he showed Frank off, what would happen? Who would see? What would they think?

It was simply a case of what would win; Gerard’s fear, or Frank.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Frank dragged his to his feet suddenly.

“What’s going on?”

Frank grinned up at him. “You know Tyler and Josh? Well, they wrote the song this café was playing. The one we were singing to. And Jamia is Twenty One Pilots trash #1, so…”

Jamia twirled Lynz, humming an off-key tune. “Time To Dance!”

Gerard looked at his sweet boyfriend. The short, angry, broken, crazy, beautiful mess of a boy that mattered, so, so, so much.

They danced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update of my life:
> 
> yeah I saw fob life it changed my life I genuinely cant absorb it those fucks mean the world to me and to hear them sing songs like this aint a scene and Saturday and Chicago is so two years ago and thriller and jet pack blues and alone together and EVERYTHING actually made my life holy sh
> 
> also Halloween I had a lovely day and okay wait for it 
> 
> MIKEY WAY FAVORITED MY TWEET HOLY SHIT
> 
> so life really is getting better :)
> 
> thank you guys again ur radder than rad


	30. cute shit and sad shit and shitty shit and halloween shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okaaaaaaaaaaayyy im very sorry about that unexpected hiatus *pete wentz screaming in distance* 
> 
> basicallyyy im a ball of issues who gets rEALLY BAD WRITERS BLOCK
> 
> but yeah I wrote some stuff in the meantime soooo you could check that out
> 
> and im back now. for real. I promise.
> 
> I love you all you meme shits

It was time for phase three.

Gerard left Frank being spun around by an enthusiastic Jamia, ducking behind a wall.

“Ross, it’s time for phase three,” he whispered into his phone, walkie-talkie style. Ryan didn’t answer. It took Gerard a little bit too long to realise he hadn’t actually pressed call.

“Ross, it’s time for phase three,” he repeated, slightly more irritably.

“You can just call me Ryan, Gerard.”

“It’s not Gerard! It’s Eagle One! Gosh darn it, Ross.”

“Okay, Way the second.”

Gerard frowned. “Wait, why am I not Way the first?”

“Forget it. I’m on my Way.” Gerard sighed as hysterical laughter floated down the phone.

Gerard hung up sulkily, shoving the phone into his pocket before sauntering as innocently as possible towards his boyfriend.

“Gerard!” Frank’s face lit up. “Wait, why are you looking so suspicious?”

“Suspicious? Me? The very idea.” Gerard coughed. “Um, anyway, um, yes, hello.” Hopefully that had fooled Frank.

The smaller boy simply laughed. “Well then. See you later, Jamia, Lynz. We should be off.” He took Gerard’s hand, smiling widely. They all said goodbye.

 

Once they had left the warm embrace of the café, Frank stopped, taking Gerard’s other hand and simply looking at him. No lust, no longing, no regret. Just a shining happiness, the simplest of emotions. Maybe it was temporary. Maybe it was meaningless. But, in that fleeting second, that tiny eternity, Frank Iero was happy, and it was so, so real.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “This all means a lot, okay? It’s cheesy, I know. But…you mean a lot, Gerard. You mean a lot to me.”

Gerard smiled, bashful, yet unable to rid the butterflies inside his stomach. The biting autumn wind blew his hair from side to side, and, not letting go of his hand, Frank reached up and brushed it back into place.

“It certainly isn’t over yet, Frankie,” said Gerard, a smirk playing across his face.

“What?”

Gerard looked to the side and caught the eye of a tall figure leaning against a tree, floppy hat lowered over their face. They nodded at him.

“It’s time to refer you to Mr. Ross. After all, it’s only just begun.” Gerard laughed, before disappearing dramatically into the night.

In actual fact, he simply ran for about five seconds before retreating into an alleyway, wheezing, but hey, a boy could dream.

-

Ten minutes later, the sun had set and Gerard’s alter-ego ventured out of its sinister lair. Gerard, the smol chubby artist slash cat enthusiast, had been replaced by a child of the devil, a creature of the night.

He rushed out of the public toilets a fully-fledged blood sucking vampire, and he was prepared for everything.

Ryan and Joe's job was to escort Frank to the top-secret base (the Way family basement) while Gerard got ready, ran there, surprised Frank, showed him all the shit they had done, party, and hopefully kiss a few times.

He was now raced along the sidewalk, having no time to absorb the impact of his epic spoopy transformation. He had to make it in time.

He could taste blood. His lungs felt all worn out as he drew laboured breaths, heart in mouth.

He HAD to do this. Out of everything that had ever happened to him, all his faults and mistakes, he had to get this right, and show Frank how much he mattered and all the wonderful things he deserved.

-

He had done it.

Vampire Gerard Way had arrived, and now sat on the doorstep, listening for just a moment at the happy sounds of a party.

He stood silently, and knocked on the door to warn them.

Patrick the cupcake opened the door. “Is he coming?”

“Yeah. All hide now, it’s gonna be epic.”

Patrick grinned, yelling behind his shoulder: “Time to do this, guys!” He turned back to Gerard. “Does Joe have him?”

“I think so. Don’t worry, your boyfriend’ll be back soon.” Patrick blushed profoundly, shutting the door behind him.

Gerard sat there for a while, inhaling the silence of the dark night, swirling around him. Halloween, where the world of spirits and magic and evil brushed shoulders with reality. 

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when two figures rounded the corner. He heard Frank’s voice, clear as day, as he hid behind the wall.

“Joe, seriously. Where are you taking me?”

Joe, who was dressed as Chewbacca, simply made a grunting noise from under his mask, giving Gerard a small thumbs up.

Gerard waited until they were a foot away from his hiding place, before grabbing Frank’s arm and pulling his body beside him.

He let out a small scream. “What? Who is it?” He turned around and jumped. “Gerard?”

Gerard smiled, displaying his fangs. Frank screamed again.

“Oh my god, Frank, its okay. You know, I did promise more than just a date…” He led rank through the door Joe had left slightly ajar into the icily quiet house.

He stumbled down the stairs to the basement, Franks still in tow. The silence was thick as a quilt as they padded down the stairs.

“SURPRISE!”

Frank nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Assholes. You scared me.” Although his words were harsh, he was staring around with a look of wonder in his eyes.

“Well. Happy birthday, Frank.”

Frank turned to Gerard, smiling widely. Laughter danced behind his eyes, eyes that gazed their golden gaze with such emotion towards him.

“Whoa.” He looked around again, eyes flicking over all the decorations, all the food, all the people staring eagerly up at him. “Wow.”

Gerard found he couldn’t stop smiling himself. Frank was happy. He had done it. Frank was overcome with happiness, and maybe it was temporary, maybe all of it was temporary and pointless and meaningless, but that’s okay. Because it was a beginning. Because it was now. Because they were alive.

Because Frank’s smile was the most beautiful thing Gerard had ever seen.

-

Frank returned from the bathroom, full-on Frankenstein costume and makeup courtesy of Pete Wentz the panda, and he seemed to spot something in the corner.

Gerard looked up from his tuna sandwich and conversation with Spencer (who was a wizard) about their favourite funny cat videos. (They had hit it off quickly. Cats were a great icebreaker)

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Frank had spotted the skeleton. The look of sheer shock painted across his face made Gerard burst into instant fits of giggles.

“THAT’S WHAT WE WERE DOING?”

“Yep.”

“YOU MEAN YOU MADE ME ACCOMPANY YOU ON A HIGHLY ILLEGAL BREAK-IN INVOLVING SKI MASKS AND NEARLY HAVING SEX IN THE ENGLISH CORRIDOR TO GET A HALLOWEEN DECORATION I OFFHANDEDLY MENTIONED LIKE A MONTH AGO?”

“…Yep.”

“WAY, YOU LITTLE…DON’T FUCKING MOVE. DON’T YOU DARE.” Frank stormed towards his boyfriend, grabbing Gerard’s shirt before kissing him, hard.

They eventually broke the kiss, both gasping for air, to discover everyone was staring at them.

“Fuckin’ gross, man,” said Brendon (who was dressed as Satan), and the room was once again filled with comfortable chatter.

“ANYWAY!” Gerard grabbed Frank’s hand and dragged him towards the present they had all contributed towards. 

Mikey the unicorn noticed, crashing some convenient cymbals to get everybody’s attention. “PRESENT GIVING!”

He gestured towards Ray the princess and Joe the famous Wookie ((I had to google that lmao fake fan)), who heaved out a giant package. Ryan the strange magical wizard demon psychopath emo with strange face paint began gathering everybody around. Andy the Princess Peach stole the cymbals and did a rather improvised drum roll. 

“Well, we all put together some money. And Joe picked it out. And…yeah.”

Frank stared at the present he had just been presented with. ((lets award that the worst pun, ever))

“Open it!” the Jon guy yelled (dressed as a sausage) from beside Satan and Dallon the supervillain. 

Frank opened the gift, and gasped. As soon as he laid eyes on it, the look of extreme wonder returned, strong as ever. And this time, it didn’t go away.

Gerard smiled widely, that feeling from before in the café bubbling in his chest. He was really enjoying this. Yep, people could be worth it, sometimes.

“A guitar?” Every fibre of Frank’s body was clearly screaming WHAT THE SHIT WHAT THE SHIT WHAT THE SHIT WHAT THE SHIT WHAT THE SHIT WHAT THE SH WHAT THE WHAT.

“What you gonna name her?” asked Tyler the skunk, with his friend Josh the piece of candyfloss. 

“I don’t know! I don’t wanna ruin it oh god oh my god.”

“Stop being such a fucking pansy,” said Jamia the witch, rolling her eyes at Lynz, who was Harley Quinn.

“That’s it.” Frank beamed. “Pansy.”

“AND THAT IS NOT ALL!” Ryan yelled, killing the moment. “GERARD IS NOW TO PRESENT YOU WITH YOUR SECOND PRESENT IN THE FORM OF SEXUAL FAVOURS!”

“Wait what?”

“COME, IERO, WAY! PUN INTENDED!” Before Gerard could register what was happening, he and Frank were shoved into a narrow, dark room with a sofa bed.

“Classy,” said Gerard as the door slammed.

“I-“ Frank was cut off as somebody reopened the door to throw a pack of condoms and some lube at them.

They both caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing, arms winding around each other, tangling, until their limbs were entwined like vines. Gerard didn’t want to let go, ever again.

“Thank you, by the way. For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did. And it was totally worth it.” _To see your smile._

“This means a lot.” _You mean a lot._

Gerard smiled, then gestured towards the bed.

“Should we?” _I’m ready._

They kissed again, tongues desperate, lips swollen, hands greedy. Frank climbed on top of Gerard, their bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened still. A fire burnt in both of their chests, as two became one.

“Oh God,” Gerard gasped. “I need you.” _I love you._

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing that lmao
> 
> but seriously imagine Patrick Stump in a cupcake outfit imagine Mikey Way in a unicorn outfit imagine Spencer Smith in a wizard outfit iMAGINE LYNZ IN A HARLEY QUINN OUTFIT SHHHHI T
> 
>  
> 
> okay updates on my life:
> 
> -i still love fall out boy  
> -i still love mikey way  
> -i saw star wars IT WAS SO GOOD I CRIED  
> -i got a girlfriend??? how??????? how????????????????????????   
> -she is aDORABLE   
> _WE WENT ON A DATE ON MONDAY AND SAT IN A TREE FOR LIKE FOUR HOURS TALKING AND IT WAS THE BEST THING EVER AND FOR CHRISTMAS SHE GAVE ME A BOX OF MILKY WAY BARS AND STUCK MIKEY'S FACE ALL OVER THEM AND IT WAS GENUINLY THE NICEST THING ANYBODY HAS DONE LIKE EVER
> 
> anyway, have a beautiful Christmas eve eve. Merry Christmas, children. tank you and goodnight.


	31. i wrote this at two am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feat. poetic shit that half makes sense and some rEAL INTENSE FORESHADOWING LIKE WHOA

The days passed. Memories were made. Dreams died. Paint dried on dusty canvases, as two people laughed together somewhere in a lonely basement. 

Skies burnt. Stars were born.

People fell in love, but also fell apart.

-

Gerard was sitting under the cork tree, beside Brendon and Ryan. As he sketched busily away, creating drafts for his and Frank’s project for art, they spoke in half-hushed tones; not really caring if Gerard heard or not.

“Brendon, it’s not that I don’t want you staying over, but you need to sort this out, okay? You can’t go from one friend’s house to another, dodging the problem.”

“Who says I can’t?”

Ryan sighed deeply. “Brendon, your goddamned boyfriend has been trying to tell you this for Weekes. You’re not happy.”

“Of course I am. I have great friends and a wonderful boyfriend and¬-“

“You won’t be happy until they accept you, will you?” Brendon froze, and the thick silence hung for a good few seconds. 

“No, I don’t need them. They won’t ever accept me, anyway.”

“That’s the whole point, Brendon.” Ryan stood up, gathering his things. “You’re my friend. You matter, like it or not, and I’m sure as hell not losing you. Oh, and call your boyfriend, he misses you.”

-  
The next time, a few days later, he was with Frank.

They were sketching out a timeline for their comic so far, including vivid details of their lives, superhero version. Their art teacher had responded very positively to the class’ work, and had asked them all to extend the project for the rest of the term, so they both continued to document their lives through the wonders of art.

They were both inside a classroom as rain pounded the rooftops, joined by Joe and Patrick, who were both still too infuriatingly stubborn to admit their feelings for each other. The pair sat at the back, away from Frank and Gerard’s messy artwork, speaking in soft voices like Ryan and Brendon’s exchange under the cork tree that Gerard was struggling to shake from his brain. 

“Are you doing any better, Joe?”

“I’m fine.” Joe ran a hand through his hair. “I always have been, you know. It doesn’t….it can’t effect me.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Patrick, I’m fine! Don’t worry about me!”

“I feel obliged, because you don’t worry about your darn self. Now, tell me. Tell me how you feel.

“I…” Joe’s voice was impossibly quiet. “I believed them, you know? On its own it was awful, but as they whispered into my ear, just tiny suggestions, everything got worse…and I began to believe the words they whispered. I guess you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I do.” Patrick sighed. “It’s the worst thing to happen, ever, as you’re slowly pulled into oblivion by words, small, insignificant words you know not to believe but somehow end up leaving the deepest scars. Words every fibre of you knows are lies, but, soon enough, words you end up screaming at yourself.”

Joe chuckled dryly. “I knew you would understand.”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause where all that could be heard was Frank’s brush on the paper.

“The best part of believe is the lie, Joe,” Patrick said darkly, cracking through the tense silence. 

“What?”

“Promise me this. Don’t trust a single person, ever again. Don’t believe their words. Don’t believe what’s on TV. It’s all lies. Trust nobody.”

“How can I trust this advice then?”

Patrick laughed, humourless. “You can’t. But, one day, there’ll be some beautiful people who don’t lie, whose tiny insignificant words don’t sting. And there will be a person, one person, who you can trust. And once you find that person you trust, trust in them with all your heart, and never, ever let go.”

Joe drew in a long breath as the silence resumed, heavy as a blanket of snow across a village, muffling the eternal hum of life.

Joe’s voice was practically a whisper. “I trust you, Patrick.”

-

“Today in health we talked about sexuality.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at his little brother, genuinely surprised, as the education system was a fucking train wreck.

“I know, shocking huh? Well, I outed myself to the entire class.”

Gerard burst out laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me? Mikey, you little shit.”

“They were being really unspecific about stuff, and Ray dared me to correct them. I was literally like,” Mikey did an exaggerated impression of raising his hand eagerly. “Actually miss, some people don’t think genitals and gender matter…” he coughed loudly. “Like me. Some people aren’t even sexually attracted to people…” he paused, before coughing again. “Like me.”

Gerard laughed at Mikey’s hysterical storytelling and Mikey laughed at the joy of the memory and, for a moment, in the quiet, solemn Way household, the place was filled with laughter.

-

The days passed, grinding yet somewhat peaceful. Memories were made, as their small unit lived on, brightly, loudly. Dreams died, as the wise finally realised that their futile ambitions were in the way as they struggled to find happiness. Paint dried on a dusty canvas, an immortal splash of colour and vibrancy, as two people, both painfully mortal splashes of colour and vibrancy, laughed together somewhere in a lonely basement. 

Skies burnt. Stars were born. As they should be.

And the most tragically beautiful thing of all; amongst the beauty and liveliness and temporariness and pointlessness, people fell in love. But…they also fell apart.

But, maybe, love is just the price to pay for those beloved splashes of colour as you are destroyed. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I was rereading the entire thing to get some context to wrap up some things I left hanging and then I read back on the comments and it is the funniest thing it goes from stuff like 'hey sorry for bothering you but I like this' to a massive shitstorm about how bad the chibi version of teen titans is and wow thank you all for existing


	32. michael james way, born september the 10th 1980 to don and donna way grew up in new jersey alongside brother gerard way founder and frontman of american rock band my chemical romance who way would later play bass for, is invited to hug me right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning!!! this is a mess!!!  
> ive been really experimental with my writing style recently this is jam packed with metaphors and deepness so please tell me what you think does it work???
> 
> also I recommend listening to fallin' apart by the all american rejects while reading this not necessarily because it has anything to do with this chapter, just because I love the all american rejects very much and think everyone should listen to them so there

Mikey was leaning against his locker.

He had every right to be there. It was his locker, nobody could blame him for being in ‘the wrong place at the wrong time’ or some shit. 

Everything happens in a domino effect. It wasn’t chance. It wasn’t the wrong place at the wrong time. Once a movement has begun, there’s no ending it…just, with a whole lot of force, changing it, or simply presenting it in a different light.

Nothing ever ends. Just changes.

And anyway, being at the wrong place at the wrong time was a myth. What was the wrong place for one may be the right for another. What is inconvenient to one brings convenience to another. What hurts one, provides another with some kind of sick happiness.

All happiness is sick. You can only be happy at the expense of another. And the selfish survival instincts of every human motivates them to plough down a romanticized path to happiness and people are crushed on the way. But when you are the one being pushed away for another’s happiness, suddenly you are so oppressed and mistreated and the other is evil.

There’s no good or evil, just perspective, and kindness. But, who can you blame, when a person cannot show kindness because they have not experienced it?

Prevention. Teach the unkind to be kind, teach the kind to be happy.

Or, trick humans into thinking that kindness is happiness, which, though it’s not true, is a pretty convenient solution. Some see through that, though. Selfishness is kind of healthy, after all.

Mikey knew this, somewhere inside him. Mikey Way was many things, but, despite what Gerard thought, he wasn’t oblivious.

He saw things. He saw Gerard’s dependence and Frank’s anxiety. He saw Patrick’s rage and Joe’s pain and Andy’s helplessness and Ray’s fear and Brendon’s insecurity and Ryan’s confusion, and Pete’s emptiness.

And what Mikey would’ve given to end this movement. To break the laws of physics and end it. 

That was the curse of his understanding. He was only Mikey Way. Pretty incredible, but not enough. Never enough.

Mikey was already broken, from this. His kindness was already killing him. He didn’t need to be targeted, but the world doesn’t quite work like that.

Leaning against the lockers, he closed his eyes and thought of the colourful movement he lived in. But he could tell many things, and he could tell everything and everyone was falling apart, and there was no sugar-coating it. People hurt, people died, people never recovered. There was hope and there was colour, but there was no escape from life. But friends could also be made, and, sometimes, you find yourself living the most violently on the days when you wanted to die the most violently. 

Mikey also knew that for Gerard to fall apart, there was one person who had to be taken away. So if you were crushing him on a path to second-hand happiness, there was somebody to take out first.

Not Frank. Himself.

Mikey knew he was next, that’s why he was standing by the lockers, that was why he wasn’t panicking as he heard a heavy trod of many people coming down the corridor. That’s why he was standing there.

Mikey knew he had to be a force against this movement. That’s why he didn’t flinch when they towered above him. That’s why he didn’t talk back when they called him names. That’s why he stood there as they spat in his face, jeering. That’s why he closed his eyes when they punched him, and closed his ears as they yelled at him. 

Mikey Way was good at many things, but he wasn’t good at feeling. That’s why he thought he could bear this, protect Gerard instead of saving him. Like the superhero who stood up to the villain while his teammate saved the damsel in distress. 

He could bear anything. He didn’t feel things. He wasn’t hurt easily, he was okay.

Mikey Way wasn’t good with feelings, with saving people. He wasn’t good with his feelings, and he wasn’t good at saving himself.

Mikey Way was right about many things, but maybe not this time. His eyes opened and his ears opened and his heart began to hurt and he couldn’t do this anymore and he wasn’t a superhero and he wasn’t a saviour and he wasn’t a force and he wasn’t invincible. 

But he was clever and he did know things. That moment, he realised his own weakness. His own negative force he hid from the world.

Kindness.

“You can’t save them now, Mikey Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was dick whittington in a pantomime and oh my god it was so fun
> 
> also family conversations:
> 
> my brother: hurry up  
> me: im having a shower  
> my brother: no you're not you're singing green day


	33. the last supper on death row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title makes it sound so fucking metal wow well whatever enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update on my life: the downtown fiction followed me on twitter it was cool  
> also ive given up trying to pretend. im not living a lie anymore. welcome to the black parade is my favourite mcr song. im sorry guys. not obscure enough, I know. but. but. hAVE YOU EVEN HEARD THE GODDAMN SONG IT GIVES ME CHILLS I STG..

It was a quiet evening. The house smelt of coffee, sweat and cigarette smoke, and the only light in the room came from a dusky amber streetlight outside.

Gerard’s parents were out, and he and Frank were sprawled out on the couch, sipping from wine glasses they had filled with cranberry juice. The conversation had died out once they reached the topic of cannibalism, and they were both mulling over Gerard’s theory that people would taste like bacon. 

The door burst open and Mikey walked in, head hung.

“Is that cranberry juice?”

“No.” said Gerard.

“Yeah.”

“Goddamn it Frank!”

Mikey shrugged, blowing out a long breath. He trudged upstairs, looking back at the two of them regretfully. Everything was falling apart, and he couldn’t do anything. God, couldn’t they at least have a final bout of glory? It was too soon.

The best people die young. The best times die young. 

Life had sure gotten bad when even Mikey Way had given up.

But still, they sipped their cranberry juice and thought in silence. The last supper on death row.

-

Pete was kind of scared.

Pete had long ago grown accustomed to fear. What with his friends hurting and his family breaking and him giving up, giving in to it all long ago. What with him being so full of life on the outside, but, on the inside, nothing.

That was his biggest fear. Being worthless. Not making anything out of himself. And it’s a scary reality when you are your own worst nightmare.

His head was brimming with furiously dark thoughts, but still, his heart was empty. He couldn’t even feel rage, or pain, or hurt anymore. Just…nothingness. And it was killing him.

The phone rang. It was Patrick.

“Pete?”

Pete sighed. “Yeah?”

“Do you wanna hang out? I haven’t talked to you in ages. Just wanted to catch up.”

“Sure. Do you want to meet at the chip place or something?”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few.”

-

Mikey climbed out of his window, blood boiling.

He could smell the disaster, like some kind of feral shark, and he knew everything was going wrong, and, like always, everything was flawed and everybody was flawed and, god, he just needed to get away from the mess that was his mind.

He found himself in a back alley, heart heavy, back breaking from all the chaos inside of him. Too much, too much, too many words in his brain, too much colour, it hurt, he hurt. 

Because they were all so flawed. Mikey saw through every precedence, every word of reassurance, every nod and promise to try harder, every single lie. And it all made him care even more. 

Mikey knew the way his brother’s mind worked. Gerard was one to romanticize. To write poetry of angels and blood and star crossed lovers, and ignore the basicness of life.

Long ago, Gerard had given up trying to understand life. Mikey saw it much more simply; he was alive, and the world was shit. Apart from like five people. Who weren’t shit. 

But Gerard was oblivious to his own feelings and the feelings of others around him, simply brushing it off as bumps in the road to destiny, breaks in the fall to doom, and, god, Mikey was so so sick of it all, because he was so WRONG. They were flawed! And Gerard was forgetting about it!

That was the day Mikey realised that he should stop trying to protect everyone, shield everyone. Because, maybe they would hurt even more without him pretending, but there is something easier about looking at the rawness of blood, rather than a bloodied bandage hiding the damage.

Maybe he couldn’t end the pain. But, with help, he could change it.

Rain began to fall from the sky, puddles gathering at his feet. The alley smelt of piss and fast food, but it reminded Mikey of the city, his home.

Speaking of home, he should probably get back before he was murdered or something. Appealing as that sounded, it probably wouldn’t make the situation any better.

But, as he dragged his feet along, he noticed a figure curled up in the corner. He tried to avert his eyes, but it was too late.

-

“So, Trick, what’s up with you?”

“Well, I’m goddamn tired, that’s what’s up. School really sucks, y’know.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, I’ve been going there for a while now actually.”

They were sat in the canopy bit of the chippy, shoving steaming, vinegary fried potato into their mouths. It was raining outside, but they were happily huddled up in a corner, sharing the box.

Patrick sighed deeply. “I like Joe.”

“I know. Mikey told me.” Pete said.

“What? How does he know?”

“I was going to ask the exact same thing.”

Patrick laughed. “Joe, well, he isn’t as tough as…as he lets on. And honestly, I worry about him. Like, a lot.”

Pete studied his worn converse. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a mother. He must be brokenhearted.”

“We’re all brokenhearted.” Pete gave his friend a sideways glance. “C’mon, Pete, I know you. You see too much. You’re hurting. And, god, does it make me angry.”

Of course Pete saw too much. Of all people.

He saw through it all, because they were all so brokenhearted. He saw through every precedence, every word of reassurance, every nod and promise to try harder, every single lie. And all of it made him care even less.

As the people he loved felt pain, he began to feel less and less. He was floating away. His heart was so empty, and oh how the emptiness ached.

“You’re my best friend, Pete,” said Patrick slowly. “You’re my best friend, and I’ll do anything to protect you. I’ll move mountains, I’ll fight zombies, I’ll punch supervillains, I’ll even make you your coffee the way you like it, all gross and bitter. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Pete sighed, inhaling the tangy vinegar that hung on the air. He leaned into Patrick’s shoulder, closing his eyes peacefully.

“Thank you, Patrick.”

-

Mikey recoiled as the bundle practically grovelling in the dirt turned and met his eyes with oddly familiar, chocolate brown orbs.

“Brendon?”

Mikey could practically hear the cogs in the boy’s brain turning. All of a sudden, he leapt up, grabbed his bag and tried to sprint away.

“Brendon, wait!” Mikey grabbed his wrist. He wasn’t getting away with this one. Mikey was just so desperately sick of pretending.

Brendon let out a silent sob, burying his head into his own shoulder in shame.

“Hey, Brendon,” Mikey tried again, more gently this time. “Come on, sit down. It’s okay, I’ve got you now. It’ll be okay.”

Brendon’s chest heaved with the empty, soundless sobbing. Once he had calmed down, he turned his tearstained face towards Mikey.

“I can’t go on like this. I can’t. All my friends hate me. My boyfriend can’t see me. My best friend is disappointed in me. I’ve ruined everything, Mikey. Everything.”

“Shh.” Mikey stroked his arm, trying to give all the empty comfort he could muster. “We’ll figure this out. At least, I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things to consider after reading this chapter:
> 
> -CHIPS AS IN THE LOVELY NICE FAT SALTY POTATO THINGS YOU IDIOTS A CRISP IS THE CRISPY THING THAT COMES IN MULTIPLE FLAVOURS IN PACKETS, A FRY IS THE SKINNY FRENCH FRY THAT YOU GET AT MCDONALDS AND A CHIP IS THE SLICED FRIED POTATO THING THAT YOU GET WITH FISH AT THE SEASIDE OR WHEN YOU GO TO TOWN WITH FRIENDS AHHH edit ive just realised maybe this isn't normal? my town has three chippies so...? whatever  
> -sorry no peterick sorry I know sorry  
> -also I like this chapter so yes  
> -sorry about mini cliffhanger just life


	34. the last supper on death row (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dARK SHIT
> 
>  
> 
> also remember when I said these chapter titles were metal? well I thought about it more and its actually really political because the last supper is obviously religious imagery because jesus and shit, but this contrasts with the death row. an execution, which many Christians agree with. however, crucifixion is not as different as this. so essentially, im comparing Christians to the roman government who condemned jesus, without even realising what the fuk

Alongside exhaustion and fatigue and tiredness came a weird feeling, sort of otherworldly. Once your eyelids begin to burn and your thoughts become slow, you begin to lose that certain touch with reality, as the consciousness you knew so well began to slip away, replaced with the surreal and the uncomfortable. Not get enough sleep at night and, before you know it, your perception will warp itself into something unrecognisable and you will lose yourself in your own head.

It’s not healthy. It’s self-destructive. But self-destruction is addictive.

Mikey was sort of addicted to self-destruction. He loved warped realities, and, as his eyelids got heavier, the night became more vivid as all of his anxiety and worry and kindness faded. And he was able to live without boundaries, and everything became so much more real.

He loved it.

That’s how he found himself leaning against a brick wall with Brendon Urie leaning on his shoulder, just sitting there, taking in the silence, breathing in the night.

“Do you ever feel like the night is the only time you can be alive?” Mikey said quietly. “Like, when you’re so tired that your brain forgets how to care and forgets all the social and mental boundaries and it’s not filled with chaos and you can just breathe?”

Brendon sighed. “Yeah. Honestly, that’s half the reason I stopped leeching off people. To be with the night, and the city.”

“Brendon.” His voice was soft. “You weren’t leeching.”

Brendon didn’t reply.

“Do you want something to eat? When have you last eaten?”

“Um, I don’t know. Not that long ago.” Mikey gave him a look. “Not since yesterday…”

Mikey made a disgruntled noise and handed Brendon a pack of crackers he had shoved in his hoodie earlier. “Look, Brendon. I won’t tell anybody if you don’t want me too, but you have to take care of yourself. Remember to eat, keep warm, and for God’s sake, stay at somebody’s house overnight. You’re not bloody well dying on my watch.”

Brendon mumbled something.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t be better off dead, you fucking idiot. C’mon.” 

“Where we going?”

“To buy you some chips.”

-

Patrick and Pete were discussing the artistry of playing Mario Kart when somebody yelled their names.

“Andy? What’s the matter?”

Andy ran up to them, breathing heavily. “Thank God I found you all. Why weren’t you answering your phones?”

Patrick swallowed. “That doesn’t matter. What happened?”

A wave of helplessness seemed to hit the teenager’s stocky frame. “It’s Joe. I was…I was skyping him and then he had some kind of breakdown and he hung up and he won’t answer the door and I need your help.”

Pete turned to Patrick. His jaw was clenched but his expression was emotionless.

Pete refused to even imagine the thoughts that must be going through his best friend’s brain right now. If something like that had happened to Mikey…

What drained Pete the most was that it could’ve happened. His boyfriend could’ve gone through an impossible amount of breakdowns and he wouldn’t know, and he couldn’t know. And it ached, because Mikey mattered so much. Mikey was beautiful, and, every day, Pete wished he could help him understand it. 

He sighed, the black hole in his heart simply expanding. He could barely face it anymore. The simple lack of something he felt inside himself, inside his heart and his brain, was eating him up from the inside out. And all he could do was ignore it and hope. 

“Pete. Sorry I have to leave so soon, but I should-“

“Yeah, I know. See you in a bit ‘Trick, Andy.”

Andy gave him a regretful, sorrowful glance, as if he was watching Pete suffer from behind glass. And then they were gone.

Pete picked up a chip and stared at it thoughtfully, before popping it into his mouth.

-

A mess. That was what this was.

Mikey was helping a homeless, tearstained boy along a street while said boy tried to ward off a panic attack while eating chilli-flavoured crackers and humming under his breath. Never had Mikey met someone who was calmed by the sound of their own voice, but he wasn’t one to judge.

But Brendon really wasn’t coping well. There was noise all around and Mikey could tell it was difficult. And he had an idea.

“Hey, Brendon?”

“Yeah?”

“What’dya say we stop off at Ray’s house? It’s just around the corner.”

Brendon nodded, and the conversation lulled to a standstill. 

Mikey was just beginning to enjoy the silence when Brendon spoke again.

“I’ve let Ryan down, I think.”

Mikey gave him a sideways glance, wary. “Why do you think that?”

“I worry him. I confuse him. He worries about me and I don’t let him in and he doesn’t know why and honestly that’s the worst part. I love him a lot, and I’ve let him down.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow. Brendon sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it like that. He’s been my best friend forever, and I’ve always loved him. When we broke up, I carried on loving him. We broke up because he was my friend, and it didn’t feel right. It’s like dating a brother. I couldn’t.” Brendon shook his head. “But after we drifted apart. I stopped talking to him altogether. It was like…it was like he had left my band or something, and I was denying his existence. But then you and Gerard joined the school, and I saw him more and more. It’s like nothing has changed. But now…now I’ve let him down. Fucked with his care, with his love, with him.”

Mikey gaped at Brendon, and his sudden rush of feelings. Wow, this was one hell of a situation.

He led Brendon around a turn and to the doorstep of Ray’s house.

“Look. Here we are. Here we can stay without Ray’s mom asking questions. We can get a hot meal into you and you can cry a bit and sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll sort it out. You can talk to Ryan. Tell him what you must. And you can talk to your boyfriend, as well. And it’ll be okay.”

Mikey knocked on the door of the house and exchanged a few words with Ray. He nodded.

“Of course you two can stay. You’re always welcome.” The tall boy looked the two of them up and down. “I’ve been worried about you two. I hope you’re okay.”

Brendon walked into the kitchen in search of a drink. Ray pulled Mikey to the side.

“He’s okay, right?”

Mikey sighed. “For now. Tell him I’ve gone to get chips and I’ll be back soon. Don’t fuss over him.”

Mikey was just about to close the door when Ray muttered something softly.

“I won’t. It’s just…I’m so afraid of what will happen next.”

Mikey didn’t reply.

-

The chippy was located on the very end of the high street, illuminated with bright signs and a faded cartoon picture of a fish, the paint peeling off.

In the very corner, beneath the blue-and-white striped canopy, there was a figure, curled up. An empty chip container lay beside them, looking as lonely and hopeless as the person.

Mikey looked at the figure, with a black fringe shielding their face and a worn hoodie to shield them from the wind and the world. They looked oddly familiar.

It was Pete.

In that moment, a rush of regret washed over Mikey. To see Pete like that, to see him so alone and afraid, to see somebody who he cared about with every inch of his being, who he had kissed and touched and held, who he spend so much time with, who he, in the face of things, knew so little; it hurt.

And then it hit him. His boyfriend could’ve gone through an impossible amount of breakdowns and he wouldn’t know, and he couldn’t know. And it burned, because Pete mattered so much. Pete was beautiful, and, every day, Mikey wished he could help him understand it.

“Hey, Pete,” Mikey called out softly.

Pete glanced up, his pale skin looking so dead in the artificial light from the signs above him. His eyes met Mikey’s; wide, surprised, beautiful…

Empty.

-

Pete was cold.

The chill in the winter air had been replaced with something different. Something that chilled him to the very bone, and he hated it.

He had never felt so alone. Just within him was that crushing feeling, telling him to give up, destroying his life. He truly believed that the rest of his days would be eaten up, pointless, lifeless because of that black hole of a heart.

“It’ll never go away.” His voice was soft, his inner thoughts escaping him as he held Mikey’s gaze.

Mikey. That insane boy, full of hope, full of chaos, that loved to fuck up Pete’s world in the best way possible. Mikey, the sweet, withdrawn, sad person that just so happened to play a part in Pete’s insignificant life, who changed everything, who made him laugh and made him cry.

People are funny things. And Pete knew he would never understand Mikey, with his cynical mind and anxious heart, with his tousled hair and lopsided glasses, with his strong jaw and gentle words. 

But if there was anything Pete had learnt as he walked on this cursed earth; you didn’t have to understand people to love them.

“What will never go away?”

Pete retreated into himself once again. “It. The feelings, inside of me. The despair.”

Mikey looked at him carefully, before, all of a sudden, crouching beside Pete and smothering him in a warm hug, a hug to keep out the cold.

“Tell me about the despair.” Mikey’s voice was muffled.

Pete buried his head into the lanky boy’s shoulder. “I wish I could feel pain. I wish I could feel something. But it’s inside of me, and its eating me up, and it’s stopping me from living, and I thought I would’ve learnt to live with it, but no, it’s killing me, I want it to end, I need it to end.”

Mikey just held him. And honestly, it was all Pete needed, because he was cursed with irony. As he ached, he found happiness in even the smallest things.

In smiles from strangers. In songs on the radio. In warm cups of coffee. In art galleries. In photographs of the sea and the colour of dusk and the soft rustle of pages in a book and spilt paint and the strum of guitars and Mikey Way.

Because, as he fell apart, he began to see the beauty of the world. And how the world was beautiful, and how life was beautiful…but maybe he would never realise that.

“You will appreciate the beauty, Pete. You will learn to live again. I’ll make sure of it, okay?” Pete gazed up at the beautiful coincidence he loved so dearly. “I’ll teach you how to love. You’ll teach me how to love. Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

And in that moment, their lips collided. Two hurting boys beneath a canopy in a lonely fish and chip shop on the darker side of town in the drizzly rain sharing a promise, hoping desperately to themselves that, one day, life would be better.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today in rs we had to discuss sex scenes we've seen in movies and tv shows and write them down and I just laughed because all I watch is doctor who, adventure time and gay anime I suck so much  
> but the guy who sits next to me was just like 'it cool put down james bond' thanks bertie for always having my back


	35. the lowkey existential gays feat gerard the art hoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the queer corner: a wonderful place where wonderful things happen
> 
> TW: the m word!!!!!

Mikey and Gerard were sat at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast in silence. Beside them was Donna, their mother, who had suddenly decided to become extremely invested in her son’s lives.

“So, boys. How’s school doing? You getting good grades? Joined any sports teams?”

Mikey shook his head. “Ma, you are way too desperate to be a soccer mom. Please lay it off.”

“But I’m always out, and I haven’t had a good chat with you in so long. Tell me about school. Any cute girls?”

Gerard and Mikey exchanged a look.

“Yeah. Truckloads of them.” Not that they were necessarily attracted to them.

“Oh, Gerard. I’m so glad. It’ll be so lovely to meet one of them. Do you have any in mind?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, while Mikey tried not to laugh. 

“I think Gerard’s been friendzoned by most of them,” he giggled, downing the rest of his coffee.

“Oh, Gee, that’s awful.”

“I don’t mind,” Gerard mumbled, kicking Mikey in the kneecap.

“Oh, if you insist. I feel like a bit of an absent mother, you know. I don’t want you wasting away, becoming addicted to coffee and cocaine and cigarettes or whatever. I know I’m not the best example, but don’t be fooled by other people. Drugs are not cool.” She looked at her coffee mug. “Even coffee’s bad. Ah, I’m such a hypocrite.” She stood up.

“It’s okay, mom, I know there’s nothing romantic about coffee and cigarettes. I’ll do my best to quit.”

“As will I.” She left.

Mikey turned to his brother. “Gee, you hypocrite. Nothing romantic? You’re the biggest art hoe in, like, the entire universe.”

Gerard threw a piece of toast at his younger brother. Nothing had changed, after all…and neither of them could figure out if that was good or bad. 

-

The days were gradually getting colder, and none of them could sit under the cork tree without freezing their balls off. So, they had found a temporary replacement; in the corner of one of the English classrooms was a heater. It was sectioned off by some tables and, although it didn’t have much elbow room, could fit them all and keep them warm.

They had named it the quorner, an abbreviation of queer corner, because literally none of them were straight. Like, even Ray had once gotten extremely invested in a conversation about Chris Pratt’s thighs; not that any of them could blame him. 

The lack of personal space had led to many quite homosexual occurrences, and it was a great place to be. They would drink coffee, draw, sing, take multiple emo selfies, cry with existentialism, play music, nap and cuddle, together, and sometimes do all at the same time. 

Magical things happened in those short lunchbreaks. 

One particular day, Frank, Gerard, Mikey, Pete, Joe and Ray were huddled against the heat, trying with every fibre of their beings to not fall asleep. Both Frank and Mikey had failed miserably, however, and both lay in a weird tangle across Gerard and Pete, napping.

The conversation about the anatomy of the female body had lulled (Joe had asked if vaginas had bones in them, which lead to a very heated debate). Pete was also half-asleep, nursing a cup of shitty canteen coffee, so it surprised them all when he spoke up.

“What’s gonna happen now, then?”

They all looked at Pete, confusion and shoddily-disguised fear written all their face. Fear of confrontation, fear of thinking. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Please. We need to do something, before they destroy all we have.”

Gerard shook his head at Pete, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe it’s too late. We’re already destroyed.” 

Pete frowned.

“They did something to Mikey. I don’t know what, but something about him has snapped. He seems so…vulnerable. And…I don’t know what they did, I don’t know what HE did, but he’s just breaking down, slowly. And it’s killing me.”

“He cares too much.” Ray closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “He cares too much. Hamartia. Fatal flaws.”

They gave him a look.

“What? I only know that from Percy Jackson.” Ray shrugged. “I saw Mikey last night. He took Brendon back to mine, and looked after him, bought food and stuff. They’re not even that close. I hate to say it because Brendon obviously needs support right now, but it wasn’t necessary. I just hope Mikey’s okay.”

Gerard felt a cocktail of emotion bubble inside. Because, as an older brother, he hadn’t noticed a thing. 

That night, when he was home with Frank, when Mikey had gone out, while Frank and him had smoked and drunk cranberry juice and coffee and made out, where he had fallen asleep with Frank without a second thought for his little brother. What had Mikey been doing? What happened to him? Was he okay?

What had Gerard done?

He looked at the tiny body of the boy he had watched grow up, watched discover the world, the one he had sworn to protect. His vulnerable, peaceful expression, his skinny frame curling towards Pete. 

He smiled a little, suddenly, in the midst of a happy dream far away from the shitty, rusted heater, away from the drafty room that smelt of weed, the mediocre yet still pretty good people who sat inside their tiny universe that day.

Gerard was so proud of how strong he had become. He was impossibly proud of his little brother’s bravery, but Mikey wasn’t invincible. 

“Gerard, I’ll take care of him.” Gerard looked up at Pete, a solemn expression on his face. “I’ll do everything I can to help him, I promise. Don’t worry.”

“How can I trust you?” It came out a little too harsh than he intended.

“I love him.” Pete sighed. “I love him.”

“I know.”

Mikey was beginning to wake up. He started sniffing, eyes fluttering open, immediately fumbling around for his glasses.

Pete handed them to him. “Good morning sunshine.”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“How Ray pays attention in English.”

“I told you guys, I only know it from Percy Jackson!” Ray wacked Joe around the head. There was a lot of pent up anger between them, due to the intense magical powers in their hair. Too much magical powers were not good in such a tiny space. Tragic.

“I swear we learnt about that in Mac-“

“NO!” Everybody turned to glare at Pete. “Don’t say the M word!”

 

“What the everloving fuck?” Mikey was disgruntled from his nap to say the very least.

“The Scottish Play,” Pete stage-whispered. 

And the room descended once more into absolute emo gay chaos, the previously subdued atmosphere dissolving as all their fears evaporated in favour of seeing how many times they could say Macbeth before Pete jumped out of the window. (Two. Luckily, there was grass.) 

Gerard, however, remained there, mind racing, Frank’s head on his shoulder, getting drool on his hoodie. 

In that moment, Gerard realised he was wrong. They were not already destroyed. 

He had romanticized it, as usual. They were not tragic basket cases beyond help with not a thing worth living for. He was not hopeless.

Whatever was trying to tear them apart, be it the soccer teams or God, didn’t scare him. Sometimes it was easier to follow the flow, to let go, to give in and learn to live with it. Resistance was futile.

But futile things are often the most beautiful coincidences in this sorry world. And these people mattered. Gerard Arthur Way was a stubborn bitch, and he was certainly not giving in now.

It was time to fight back. It was the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly: I would like to thank hot fuss and dookie for keeping me sane while writing that. if you don't already listen to those bands, do.
> 
> secondly: the quorner is an actual irl thing. much thanks to my friend alexa for the quote 'do vaginas have bones'.
> 
> thirdly: the first scene is foreshadowing I know it seems random but lITERATURE TECHNIQUES
> 
> fourthly: the only reason I know what hamartia means is because percy jackson
> 
> fifthly: as a superstitious drama student and shakespeare trash I will SLIT YOUR THROAT if you say the m word
> 
> sixthly: I also wrote a lil fall out boy one shot where they go see the force awakens its really dumb but I actually really like it which is a rare thing with my writing so it would be really cool if you went and checked that out??? thnks my sweet children
> 
>  
> 
> that is all for now gbye


	36. There are two Ways of living. One Way is anxiety-ridden nerdship. The other Way is pretentious art hoeing. But who cares, they are both problematic and excellent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: She Posted Twice In The Space Of Three Days What The Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spot the two folie references

It was three in the morning and Mikey Way was sat on the kitchen counter, stuffing sticks of yellow pepper into his mouth. 

Maybe he was going a little bit insane, but that was okay. For some reason, at three in the morning, the only thing to soothe the crushing guilt and worry for Pete was yellow pepper. That was just how his mind worked.

He could hear footsteps walking across the hall, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or to form a coherent thought. He just continued robotically shoving pepper in his mouth, while absent-mindedly wondering who was about to discover him like this.

“Mikey what the fuck.” Ah. So it was Gerard.

“Yellow pepper soothes the crushing guilt and worry,” he explained. 

“Okay, whatever. Do you want coffee?”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

Gerard shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I mean we could like make coffee and sit down and chat about this.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, only if you wanted to. I just thought-“

“That would be nice,” Mikey interrupted, voice soft. He gave his brother a small smile, a silent thanks for waking him from his stupor. Maybe it wasn’t the most destructive Mikey had been when in that state, but, no matter how little harm is caused, a feeling is always a feeling. And that has to count for something.

Gerard was just about to turn on the coffee machine when Mikey spoke again. “But making coffee is overrated, so, you know…”

“Are you suggesting we go buy coffee at three in the morning?”

“Defiantly.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea.”

Mikey chucked darkly. “No, it’s a shit idea. But an idea’s always an idea, and that has to count for something.” 

Gerard smiled.

-

“Have you ever wanted to disappear?”

They were sat on a brick wall by the river. Well, technically there was an entire highway between them and the river, but that was an insignificant detail.

They both cradled cups of coffee from the 24-hour service station across the road, and listened to the everlasting hum of life.

“All the time,” Gerard said. Mikey nodded.

“Sometimes I wish I just fitted my skin. I wish I could be myself. I feel as if being a human isn’t enough. Like, I don’t know. I guess I expect too much of myself. I expect myself to be superhuman and to save everybody from themselves. But…yeah.”

“Mikey, some people just can’t be saved from themselves. They have to face their villains all alone, and the most you can do is hold their hand on the way.”

Mikey sighed. “I think I knew that, but I needed to hear it, I guess.”

“I know.”

There was a pause as they simply watched the lights from across the water blur together into artificial constellations that were blinding yet still, admittedly, beautiful. 

“They harassed me.” Mikey’s voice was little more than a whisper. “That day. When you and Frank were drinking cranberry juice and I came home late. The soccer team sexually harassed me.”

Gerard was shocked into silence. A sob raked through his body.

“It wasn’t anything serious. They weren’t invested in it at all, they were joking around with each other, I guess. It’s just the way that they took what they knew about me and twisted it. They must’ve heard about when I came out as ace in class. And they took something about myself I’ve just discovered and forged it into a weapon.”

Gerard still said nothing, but his eyes were glistening. He gripped his brother’s forearm tightly.

“I hate being this way!” Mikey began to sob too. “I never asked to be asexual. I never asked to like boys. I never wanted this. I never wanted this! I DON’T WANT THIS!” He took a rattling breath, face twisted up in a hateful expression. Hate for who he was.

Gerard felt as if his heart was shattering, every piece of meaning and sanity inside crumbling at the touch. His brother. Mikey, sweet Mikey, the sensible one, the snarky one, the shy one. He didn’t deserve any of it. Never him. It never should’ve been him.

He finally calmed down. “Mikey, it’s okay. It’s okay that you are like this.” He sighed. “Believe me, if I could, I would single-handedly change every social construct that has been tattooed in our brains that says you are any less than human. If I could, I would take away all your problems and all your pain. But I can’t. And I hope that one day you will be able to accept yourself. But, Mikey, it’s okay. Never forget that.”

Mikey sniffed. “Th-they also told me I was no help. That I was holding you all back and I was good for nothing and I was selfish and obviously didn’t care. And then they told me that P-Pete would…would kill himself and it…it w-would be my fault. For doing nothing.”

Gerard wrapped his arms around him and let him just cry silently on his shoulder for a little while, until it hurt a little less.

“Pete has his villains to face. You know that. Everybody knows that. But they’re not the kind of villains that you can fight. He has to overcome the self-hatred and self-destruction himself, he has to have the courage to plunge into the dark. And all you can do is hold his hand on the way.” 

Mikey smiled.

“Come on, lil bro. We should probably get going.”

“Okay.”

Gerard helped him up. “You know what, you should totally find a way of channelling this artistic energy.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Ooh, I’m thinking music. You should totally learn piano or guitar or something.”

“No way!”

“How about watercolour?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, I know! Slam poetry.”

“I totally would, but, you know, there’s only room for one pretentious art hoe in this family.”

“HEY!”

Bickering, they disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind the constellations of the city and two lonely coffee cups.

-

“Pete, just out of curiosity, how long would it take you to assemble an army?”

“Depends who’s asking,” said the crackly voice from across the phone line. 

“This is Gerard.”

“Ah, the second-best Way!”

“My boyfriend will fight you.”

“Frank, would you fight me?” Gerard heard a faint no from the distance. “Wrong. But that explains why you’re an anonymous number.” He could practically hear Pete’s smirk.

“Fine. Why am I an anonymous number?”

“I deleted your contact after you forced me to jump out a window.”

“All I did was say Ma-“

“NO! I’m telling you, the curse is working. First I jump out of a window, and then last night I got trampled by a goat!” Gerard rolled his eyes so far back he could see his brain cells dying.

“As much as I would like to hear about how you got trampled by a goat, how fast can you assemble an army?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“It’s for Mikey.”

“Name a time and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay, do you think you could bring an entire army and possibly some liquid eyeliner to my basement this evening?”

“No problem.”

“Okay then, I’ll-“

“WAIT! Patrick wants to know what he should paint on the banners.”

“Banners?”

“Yeah. So like, Operation Unicorn Overlord Or OUO For Short? Or, um, Operation Approximately 100 Gay Emos Assemble To Do Nice Stuff For Mikey Way? Or Operation This Is Like The Third Operation Involving Mikey But Who Gives A Shit He’s Amazing?”

“Hmm. I was thinking…Operation We Broke The Mould.”

It was time to fight back, at long last. Because, no matter how small or pathetic or hopeless it is, rebellion is always rebellion.

And that has to count for something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> question of the day who tops in petekey


	37. I Just Quoted Every Song From The Fourth Studio Album By American Pop-Rock Band Fall Out Boy And I'm Very Ashamed Please Help Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will probably have plot lol sorry

Gerard’s hand was shaking a little too much.

Applying liquid eyeliner was really awkward. He was balancing the bottle on the windowsill of the bathroom, and he kept having to dip the brush back in after wasting it all as his nervous hand went astray.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. He had practiced this; he was good at it; why was it so hard? Time to start again. He rubbed the make-up wipe over his panda eyes.

Okay. Concealer. Foundation. Swipe of eyeshadow over eyebrows. Pink eyeshadow in the corner, to make him look at least slightly alive. Mascara on the tips. Now…

He took a deep breath and pressed down firmly, the brush gliding over the curve of both eyes. Yes! Now he had to try not to open his eyes.

After about a second, he opened his eyes again, too curious to resist. Goddamn it, the wings weren’t even. Time to messily bulk them out and hope for the best. Eventually, his eyeliner was so excellent, it could kill a man. Well. Maybe a small man, at least.

Lipstick. Wiping off lipstick because it’s too thick. Applying lipstick too thickly again. Announcing ‘fuck it’ and going for lipgloss instead. More mascara to make the eyeliner look less out of place on his acne-ridden, washed out skin. Spilling mascara on his shirt. Not caring because the smell reminded him of his grandma.

“GERAAAAARD?” Somebody was banging on the door.

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?” 

“WHY ARE THERE FIFTY PEOPLE AND PETE WENTZ IN THE BASEMENT?”

Gerard opened the bathroom door. “Why, does Pete Wentz not count as a person?”

Mikey cleared his throat and did his best David Attenborough voice. “And here we have the wild, majestic Pete Wentz, hunting for pizza. Most of the species collect this valuable resource to feed to their young and make nests in sofas or beds, using their keen eyes to collect little treasures such as eyeliner and shitty emo CDs to hoard and give to their chosen mate. Nature is truly beautiful.”

“You sound like the creepy guy from the Simpsons.”

“You might have to be more specific. Nice makeup, by the way.”

“Thanks. Where’s mom and dad?”

Mikey glanced behind him nervously, before sliding into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “There, like, downstairs somewhere. Do you want me to sneak you down to the basement where you can perhaps explain what the hell is happening?”

“Sure thing.”

-

“GERARD!” The moment Gerard opened the door he was assaulted by a very enthusiastic Pete Wentz.

“Hello Pete….”

“Okay we’ve been waiting for you to arrive, I managed to get like so many people to come! I did promise pizza and maybe poptarts though, I hope you don’t mind!”

Gerard looked around the room, stunned by the sheer amount of people he barely knew spilling out of the edges of the basement bedroom. It was a big basement, but, hell, that was a lot of people.

“Okay, so, I asked the normal lot to come, as well as Spence and Jon and Brent-“

“The fuck is Brent?”

Pete ignored him. “Also, Lynz and Jamia, Christa, Josh and Tyler…you know them right?”

“Um…”

Pete dragged him across the room. He gestured to a group of guys chatting to Mikey. “That’s Alex, Jack, Rian and Zack.” Whoever Zack was turned around and waved at Pete. 

Next to Brendon were two girls, one with cropped blue hair and the other with a half platinum, half black bob. “Melanie and Ashley, the problematic ones. They’re probably fucking, but we don’t talk about that. Hey, Ash!” Pete waved enthusiastically at the blue haired one. The one with the red top was touching her blue hair. Gerard wondered if it would turn lilac.

“That’s Cody and his lot. They have a band, Set It Off. They’re pretty rad.” He pointed at a bunch of guys who looked like they had just walked out of a boyband, but, like, a punk rock one.

“That’s Brendon’s friend, Patty. Never talked to him. He’s with his friend, Emma, and her friend, Dodie. And her friend, Evan. Don’t know what they do, to be honest.” They were in the corner with ukuleles. Gerard had no fucking idea where those ukuleles had come from. 

“Dan and Phil. They’re also fucking. We don’t talk about that either. Chris, PJ, Jack, Dean, Tom, Hazel, Tim, Bertie, Savannah, I honestly have no fucking idea who most of these people are, like, what the hell.” They had cameras, this time. One was even carrying a horse mask. Who were these people? 

“That’s Brandon. He’s fucking Andy. Not our Andy! I don’t know, he wrote a song about this jock called Andy. It was funny. Oh, and that’s Jenna and her lot. She’s with Lana, the one with the flower crowns that everyone has a crush on, and Hayley the pop punk princess. And Oli. He’s hot and British.” The one with brightly coloured hair turned around. 

“I LIKE YOUR EYELINER!”

“THANK YOU!”

“FUCK YOU PETE I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU!”

“Here we have the nice fuckboy, Gabe. And Travie, and William, and there’s my bro Justin!” [A.N. RIP Motion City Soundtrack because I was referring to Justin Pierre and boy has this fucked me up]

The William guy threw a shoe at Pete for apparently no reason. Pete scowled. “The Academy WAS!”

“There’s Sia and Mark. Mark is my dad.” Pete’s elaborations were gradually getting more and more brief. “DAD!” Mark turned around and waved. 

Gerard scowled. “I wanna be a dad.”

“The Dad Wars.” Pete chuckled.

“I bet I’m older than him.”

Mark put his hands on his hips. “Actually, I’m…” He looked at Pete for help. “What’s My Age Again?”

Pete pointed at another group of people. “Billie Joe, Tré, and Mike.”

“That’s my name! Don’t wear it out!” yelled one of them.

“And finally, Bob, as in soccer Bob, wanted to come.”

“Hey, Gerard.”

“So, why are we here?” Pete asked. “Patrick made the banners like you asked, but we’re still none the wiser. What does Broke The Mold mean?”

Gerard looked around at the people here today, and, without a moment’s hesitation, he jumped onto the chest of drawers. “Everyone?”

Silence filled the room, as a sea of eyes turned to face Gerard.

Don’t freak out. Now is not the time to freak out.

“So, you may be curious about the banners. Well, when they made me, I broke the mold. When they made all of us, we broke the well-designed mold society had created for us. From the moment we existed there was a clean cut place for us in the social mechanisms. But maybe, we are a lose bolt of a complete machine.”

Dallon cheered somewhere in the audience. Pete was scribbling frantically into a notebook. 

“The way I live my life…” He gestured to his skirt and his makeup. “The way I live is a sin. I’m in love with my own sins.”

“All I want is to be myself. But there’s so much social pressure to be normal, and that makes me angry, and so very afraid. I’m like a tempest in a teacup. Now, because of my fear, I’ve got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match, because gravity has held me down in this darling city.”

He sighed. “I want happiness so bad I’d shoot the sunshine into my veins. And they tell us to have faith, in whatever. But Mama, if we pray to the lord…does he sing on a stage?” Gerard exclaimed, throwing his hands to the sky.

“My point is, I don’t trust this life anymore. Maybe life’s just pace count on death…only less diligent. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of what we have. Because, much as I complain, I can only blame my problems on the world for so long, before it all becomes the same old song. So I say we stand against what we have been told. I say that we stand up and say, ‘I don’t care what you think, as long as it’s about me!’ Because we are strong. Hell yes, I’m a nervous wreck, but that doesn’t make me incompetent!”

Gerard watched the excited murmuring at his words. “I say we act as unconventional as possible. A lot of people have been sad recently, because of a bunch of social pressures and stuff. But it’s okay. Because if we join forces and make everyone who has ever hurt us uncomfortable by being ourselves, then we can be ourselves without being shamed. Because we are more powerful!” He took a deep breath. 

“Have you ever wanted to disappear?” Most of them nodded in agreement. “Well…not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is no more blood in my veins, only caffeine. also I didn't proof-read this and holy shit I apologise for everything sorry for the rambling in this and I love folie and shit I should sleep anyway hope y'all having a good day this is some very poor writing but I needed it done so I could move on it took me like a month please love me don't leave it gets better I promise  
> secondly if you can name all or most of the people I mention in this chapter then I will mail you a cookie im not kidding my kik is heytheremikeyway send me a list and your address I WILL MAIL YOU A GODDAMN FUCKING COOKIE


	38. gay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay.

Gerard could not find Frank.

He dodged through the crammed basement, avoiding people, playing Where’s Wally. Only, like, Where’s Frank. A few more people tried complimenting his makeup or his non-existent public speaking skills or even his excellent Fall Out Boy references, even though Fall Out Boy didn’t exist yet.

Right now, his self-esteem didn’t matter. He hadn’t talked to Frank properly for some time, aside from exchanging cat memes and the sort. That sort of counted as emotional bonding, but Frank had been sending some very sad cat memes recently.

“Hey, Gerard, can I talk to you for a minute?” If Gerard had suddenly became token mom friend he was going to punch a wall.

“Can I get back to you in like, five, Patrick?” Gerard ran before he could be quizzed more.

Point was, Frank and Gerard needed a heart to heart. Or even a mouth to mouth. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“PetewheresFrank?”

Pete stopped trying to convince two guys to make out and turned to glare at Gerard. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Stopharrassingthem. WheresFrank?”

Pete scowled. “But Bill and Gabe are iN LOVE!”

“GoodforthemwheresFrank?”

“I don’t know. He said he was going to be late.”

Gerard resumed his mission, holding his stitch awkwardly. This whole ‘running’ thing was overrated.

In the distance, he heard the chime of a doorbell. He was just about to race upstairs in the hope that it was Frank, when he remembered he was wearing a faceful of makeup and a skirt that was probably way too short.

“MIKEY?”

“WHAT?”

“WHERE’S MOM AND DAD?”

“GARDEN.”

With a scowl of brotherly love, Gerard crept up the stairs and opened the door just a crack, peering into the hallway. He could make out the vague shape of a short punk with his face pressed up against that weird glass in doors that constantly looks like it had streaks of rain preventing you from clearly seeing through it.

“Translucent, I believe,” said Mikey Way the actual in real life mind reader.

Gerard ignored him and promptly spy rolled towards the front door. This proved to be a terrible idea, as he ended up on the ground in a knot, his skirt revealing the bright pink boxers (Gerard Way was too classy to wear panties in a social situation).

He crawled toward the door, grabbed Frank’s arm, and dragged him back into the safety of the basement before Frank had any time to register what was happening. At least, he desperately hoped that it was Frank who had just been dragged along the ground by a teenage boy in drag. 

It was, thankfully. “Sorry I’m late, my mom was-oh.” Frank looked up for the first time, running his eyes along Gerard’s body. 

“Oh,” he said again.

“Sorry, I just-“

“Can you give me a makeover?” Frank interrupted. 

Gerard frowned slightly. “Sure, if you-“

“I meant more like- ah, fuck it,” said Frank, immediately attacking Gerard’s lips.

Gerard sighed against Frank’s mouth, letting all the tension from the last couple of days melt away. He found his comfort in the rawest and most human way possible; he opened up his mouth and heart to a boy who meant the world, and in that moment, he was so vulnerable. But maybe vulnerability is the purest feeling, maybe fear or nerves were what made everything worth it, because that feeling cut through the barren wasteland of his mind and let Frank in, with all his colour and his magic. 

In that moment Gerard Way was a wannabe grunge hipster 13-year-old Brit who listens to Arctic Monkeys’ bio, because he realised that it was okay to be a glowstick. Sometimes you’ve got to break before you shine.

Point was, when your head and your heart are tangled and grey, even the slightest emotions are a relief. To have weak sunlight is better than having no sunlight at all. Because Gerard Way was afraid in that moment, but that fear had scratched some kind of surface, and he could feel Frank pour his beauty into Gerard, even if it was just for a moment. 

To summarize, it was a nice kiss.

“Fucking hell, Gee,” he breathed into his shoulder.

“You’ve got lipstick on you.”

“Fucking hell, Gee,” he repeated, panting a little. He looked up at Gerard, eyes bright and sparkly, hand wandering from the small of his boyfriend’s back to lower down, to feel his-

“Frank! We’re in public!” Gerard was blushing wildly as Frank groped his arse, unashamed and apparently unaware of the hordes of people around them.

“You know baby, my Mom’s not home, my house is down the road, and I’m really struggling to keep my hands off of you in that blasted skirt,” he whispered, voice scratchy. With a final butt-squeeze, he sprung away from him like a jack-in-the-box.

He perched on a dresser, watching Gerard from stormy honey eyes. He was gorgeous, and blatantly so; when in a mood like this, it was none of the small, beautiful smiles or the bashful denial of his attractiveness. It was nothing Gerard was accustomed too; it was straight-out (ill-fitting word for the situation) eye fucking and back arches and flickering smirks and, god, Gerard couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Well,” Frank gave him an innocent grin. “What did I miss?”

“A great speech about self-expression from me.”

“Elaborate?”

“Well, ever since Mikey talked to me about…I don’t know. Internalised homophobia. To have grown up in a society that has taught you your entire life that you should want to fuck girls and dress like a boy and do this and do that; it’s hard to adjust, when you realise that you’re not all you’ve been told to be. When you’ve been conditioned to hate yourself.” He swallowed. “And Mikey is my little brother. I’d stop the world’s orbit for him.”

“And…?”

“And so, I’m going to make school an environment in which he can be himself. I’m going to undo years of society’s pressure. So, in the next few months, we must be ourselves. Without shame.”

“Will this change anything?” Frank leant into Gerard’s words.

“Probably not, but it’s worth a try. Everything’s worth-“

Just then, Pete burst into the hallway, barrelling into the two of them without warning.

“PATRICK AND JOE ARE MAKING OUT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been going on for almost a year jesus almighty
> 
> sorry for the tardiness I have exams its shit,,,i literally have my german oral tomorrow im fUcked ic ant even speak to people in English u cant expect me to do it in german
> 
> on the plus side imma see p!atd in November in London ayyy holla if ur going too come say hi im excited  
> ((I also might b seeing fob and the red hot chilli peppers in Ireland while on holiday ))
> 
>  
> 
> anwaay thanks fr reading


	39. What The Heck Is Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in other words: emma rants about society and makes gay jokes without any coherent transition.

If you’ve ever wondered how to change a society that’s rules and regulations have been set in stone since dinosaurs roamed the earth, then the answer is art.

Throughout history, artists have been spat on, kicked at, criticized and most significantly, taken for granted. Culture is expected to be there. Rich businessmen expect to sample local customs and buy the products of fine art when they take a break from their modern, sophisticated office buildings. But few realise that the offices they milk money from are built on the bones of the locals and the debts of the artists.

So, as frowned upon as artists may be, they are depended on, to fuel our cold concrete lives. They can pull ropes from behind the curtain. And with great power comes great responsibility; responsibility to bloody do something. To strive for change. To try. 

So, they try.

-

In further developments, Patrick and Joe were fucking, and the school was turning gay.

School is basically of a microcosm of real society; shitty hierarchies in which the richer, the more people kissing your ass. So where better to start a revolution than with the youth? 

That was the reasoning behind all the anti-drug and environmental campaigns in schools. Maybe those worked to an extent, but society is close-knit. And any invader slash corporate giant worth a fuck can tell you that an attack comes best from the inside.

So Gerard Way was using the great army of gays (cred to pete thanks pete) to attack until the shitty, shitty, shitty hell more commonly dubbed high school was just a little better.

Better, for all of them, but mostly better for Mikey. 

There we have it. The microcosm. A name to a familiar face all of them only knew after studying of Mice and Men. 

Dress codes and hyper-sexualisation and slut shaming; all fair game. This disjointed connection we are introduced to the second we are out the womb. Dress your girls and pink and your boys in blue. Hide away your daughter’s non-existent chest. Nudity is prohibited. Girls love boys. Boys love girls.

Gerard felt it. Everyone felt it. But most of all, Mikey Way had felt it, and when he realised he was different, when he didn’t want girls when he didn’t want sex it had fucked him up in ways too complex to put on page.

Nobody can quite describe the crushing feeling we all feel when we realise that we’re not how we were supposed to be. Faced with the mountain of self-acceptance; it brings the greatest to their knees.

We are products of conditioning! We are products of a society so twisted nobody can even begin to track it, let alone change it! What is the point? What is the point of even trying to change the pressure we will feel for the rest of our lives?

To see someone smile. Gerard would give everything to see his brother smile.

He was indeed prepared to devote his life to changing the world. And that was pretty incredible, to be honest. But he never understood when people gave in; ‘we won’t change anything’; ‘we won’t make a difference’; ‘it’s not worth it’.

Gerard Way had been taught that resistance was futile. But he ignored that. It’s better to be blown away in the storm than be immortalized as the ones who stood by. 

“You ready?” 

Gerard turned to look at his boyfriend.

‘Boyfriend’. Some days the word fell heavy upon his tongue. Like it was made of iron and burnt his fairy face.

He didn’t blame himself entirely for that, which was a first. But who would, growing up in a world that forced him into an ill-fitting mould. Growing up in a world that taught him that he should have a girl on the end of his arm.

Gerard had realised a while ago that he wasn’t exactly conventional. Some days he wished that he didn’t love boys, that he was normal. And maybe he would give many things to fit in.

But he didn’t. He liked boys and he didn’t fit it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that.

So if you can’t change yourself; change the world instead. If you can’t fix yourself; fix the world instead. Fix the world and perhaps one day you’ll realise that you never needed fixing anyway.

“Of course I’m not ready. Are you?” he said.

“I’m never ready.” 

Gerard took his boyfriend’s hand in his own and they set off on a doomed quest to fix the universe.

-

For some fucking reason, gay people always seemed to play instruments.

Maybe there was some psychology behind it. Obviously, certain genres of music were safe havens, playing large parts in social movements; particularly punk and jazz, which shaped eras.

Gay people can be split into four categories:

One: the gay band kids. They are sweaty, greasy and the most openly gay, so are hated by the whole school. Which doesn’t really matter because they hate the whole school back. They’re usually pretty cool because they put effort into learning that fucking instrument, unlike all the other gay kids who get away with simply being pretentious.

Two: the gay English kids. These are the ones that study the subliminal homosexuality of Frankenstein, get boners over William Shakespeare and write shitty monologues about how troubled and in homolove they are.   
These ones are usually the most closeted because they enjoy the angst. They get kicks out of writing really awful angsty gay fanfiction. Nobody understands the gay English kids.   
Three: the gay drama kids. Maybe this should be shortened to just the drama kids; nobody to have ever set foot in a theatre is entirely straight.   
Drama gays are on a whole new level of homo. These are the only breed of gay that don’t entirely hate everyone, because drama kids are fucking oblivious to the world. They thrive as they can be themselves. Theatre is wild, man. Indeed there is a Christmas tradition in Britain to put on a show centred on lesbians and a boy in heavy drag. It’s called pantomime. It’s legitimate. Please save the drama kids they’re going insane. 

Four: all the other gay kids. Gay people can be anybody. The Gays are everywhere. Run.

Good people are not always gay. You can get some completely straight people who will be the nicest pals in the world. But most of the world is slightly bisexual else lying to themselves. So it’s sometimes easier to be like ‘yo, are you gay? Come join our plot to take over the world.’

That’s pretty much what happened. Pete Wentz was by far the most baffling person Gerard had ever met because he had insane contacts. There were even a bunch of young adults who looked a bit like drug dealers crammed into the tiny music room.

(‘Gay music kids are the most common. Let’s get our hands on a music room. It’ll be like when you play spies and the sofa is your base. Only instead of playing spies we are playing gays. And instead of doing missions we are doing each other.’ –The Great And Baffling Pete Wentz.)

But they were mainly in a music room to embrace their First Type gay. The best way to spark a revolution is with a loud subtlety. A perfect oxymoron; to sing of trouble until your lungs bleed without anyone quite hearing you. 

Better end that metaphor there. The English gays are getting boners.

“Hey everybody, I brought my coffee machine,” announced a large afro entering the room.

There were general sighs of relief and gratitude. 

While Ray unplugged a few keyboards to get the machine going, the attention turned to Gerard. Despite Pete being the one that strung them all together, they seemed to have allocated him instead. Gerard could sympathise, as, although Pete Wentz was Great and Baffling, he wasn’t exactly the reliable, emotionally stable leader material. Neither was Gerard but they didn’t need to know that yet.   
“So, we all know that when the world is shitty we need to take a stand. And we all know that when we take a stand we must do our best to offend as many people as possible. But the only question is how.” He cleared his throat, glancing around the room. “How do an army of angry gay people make some noise?”

Brendon raised his hand. 

“Yes Brendon?”

“Well, we are in a music room.”

“Fascinating observation, Brendon.” Sometimes Gerard really did try and hide his sarcasm, but sometimes he isn’t.

Brendon raised his hand again.

“Yes Brendon?”

“We’re in a music room with musical instruments.”

“Yes, Brendon.”

“Musical instruments we can make noise with.”

“Thank you Brendon, that was what I was trying to get at. Apparently the rest of you are too dense to take the huge hint of our rooming. Or maybe Brendon is smarter than we thought.” Brendon beamed.

“Protect yourselves, they’re evolving!” said Pete. 

“Shut up Pete,” someone said. It was probably Mikey.

“How long does it take you to write a decent song?” Gerard asked, waving his hands vaguely. A few people mumbled in response. “Also, how long does it take to plan a flash mob? And do small murals on private property count as vandalism?”

They all seemed a little taken aback. Gerard was about to check for pulses when Frank grabbed his arm and dragged him into a convenient store cupboard. 

“Gerard. What are you thinking? We are NOT having a flash mob.”

Gerard gazed at his shoes, avoiding Frank’s eyes. They stood in silence. In all honestly, Frank’s tone had shocked him. He was ridiculous to care about it, but it had only been a joke, and he never meant-

Just then, a cymbal crashed to the ground without any explanation.

“Haunted, I’m out,” announced Gerard.

“Gerard, wait!”

Gerard turned around, trying to ignore the fact ghosts were real. “Yeah, Frankie?”

“Uh,” he mumbled, tongue seeming to get in the way of all the feelings he could never quite express. “Um, there’s the Christmas concert in two weeks. Tons of parents and students will be forced to attend. We can organise something for that day. And to answer your questions, songs don’t take long to write, provided you’re inspired. You could help out, it’ll be great. Also, I am down for mild vandalism, for the sake of politics. Or art. Or both.” 

Gerard grinned so wide, he thought his face was going to split open. Frank lit up at the sight.

“Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just going with what happens. Trying to make the world better. Trying to make Mikey better. Trying to make myself better.” He enveloped Frank in his arms, all thoughts of ghosts and haunted music closets cast away by the human warmth, the realness. 

Frank nestled under his chin. “Also, if you wanted me to, I would join a flash mob for you.”

Gerard closed his eyes, smiling silently at the darkness. “Love you.”

Frank looked up at him briefly. “Sorry?”

“Never mind.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh well, whatever, nevermind.
> 
> tag urself I am English gay 
> 
> hheeeey its my birthday!! this fic is over a year old!!! what is this madness!!!!
> 
> also I finally mentioned Christmas in this I can transition at last hallelujah 
> 
> man i got motion city soundtrack tickets to their so long farewell tour!!!! (my girlfriend also made me a mixtape it is fire because it has pretty fly for a white guy by the offspring which is a modern masterpiece but seriously omggg)
> 
> anyway thank you as always for reading this, it really does mean a lot, you are all incredible. now go out and change this shitty world. -emma x


	40. here come dat angst (oh shit watsgonnahappen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is very short!!! but it just seemed to come to a good ending and there's a separate part that should go on the end but i'll be posting it soOooOn

There was a brick wall, and Gerard was sitting on it.

Beside him was both Frank and Pete. Pete seemed remarkably unbothered by the fact he was wildly third wheeling, but it wasn’t like Gerard was going to point it out at any point, due to a crippling fear of social situations, being in them, ruining them, and such.

“So. Thanksgiving.”

The three of them had a mutual hatred of the celebration. Firstly, it was founded on bullshit, to put it simply. It was a mess of white supremacy and religion and stifling tradition, and Gerard could see Frank The Political Punk fuming quietly at the mention of it. 

Secondly, Thanksgiving involved family. Frank and Pete had unspoken family issues, and Gerard just generally hated people. His family probably weren’t that bad, considering, but being kissed on the cheek by great aunties and enduring hair ruffles from his two uncles and being told how much he had grown and being asked if he had a girlfriend yet and…well, it was a little exhausting.

“I don’t even know what to say about Thanksgiving.” Frank buried his head in Gerard’s shoulder.

“Maybe that’s because you’re a character in a lame high school fanfiction written by a Brit who has never experienced Thanksgiving and doesn’t ever plan on doing so.”

“Maybe, Pete.” Once again, an unsteady quiet ruled them.

The evening was especially freezing, even for November. Gerard could see his own breath, and their noses were a practically unseemly red. But the air burnt his lungs in ways that made him think of good memories, when life was…well, a tad simpler. When Mikey was okay.

“I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Yeah relatable but any context for this?” Frank tried to seem light-hearted, but his eyes were a little…stormy. And it scared Gerard, a bit. 

“Mikey. Eugh, I’m trying to wage a war on the foundations of society for him. It’s not gonna do much good.”

“It’s worth it, fucker.” Frank’s voice was harsh, but he understood. “Any revolution is revolution. You must know that by this point.”

“Mikey…Mikey cares too much. And that left him vulnerable to his self-doubt. And now, here we are. It’s tragically simple, but there’s nothing we can do.” Pete shivered. He seemed lost.

“Not nothing. Just not much. And not much is still something.”

“Frank?” said Gerard suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Will you do me a favour and come to my Thanksgiving dinner, so I can introduce you? Like as my boyfriend? To prove…I don’t know. Something.”

Frank chewed on the inside of his cheek briefly. “Alright,” he said, not meeting Gerard’s eyes.

Gerard shuddered, and a sour quiet resumed.

He had no idea if this was the right way to help Mikey through whatever mess the soccer team cult had created, but it wouldn’t hurt. At least, probably not. Gerard had the world’s best intentions at heart.

“This cursed night needs some noise,” said Frank lowly. He had that odd facial expression, all sneary and dark, which he only got when he lost himself in his own head.

He took a battered phone from his pockets, all smashed and grubby, and pressed a few buttons. A song began to play from the tinny speakers, right in the middle of a verse.

It was loud. There wasn’t much else he could say, but Frank liked it, and that was all that mattered. And it fit the moment. Like a movie soundtrack.

Pete closed his eyes, peaceful. Frank twisted around until he was lying on top of the wall, pretending to play guitar while screaming the lyrics tunelessly. And it was…Frank, yelling and thrashing beside him, a grin on his face, his eyes dancing, meeting Gerard’s with a silent laugh.

It’s so bizarre, companionship. Because it’s physically impossible to know everything about a person, but you end up feeling like you so, anyway. Because this was Frank, right now. This was all of him, all of his colours, just there.

Okay, obviously, Frank never talked about his problems, so Gerard only knew a part of him. But not sharing his problems was a Frank thing to do, ironically. Gerard knew that Frank just…didn’t talk about that, somehow. 

Gerard knew Frank, in ways that were impossible, indescribable. And this was so Frank. This was where Frank made his home.

“Who’s this by?” he said, quietly.

“Social distortion,” replied Pete, not opening his eyes. Frank continued, absorbed by the music. 

Gerard couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. He just appeared so comfortable in his own existence, an idea that was entirely foreign to Gerard. And, it made him glow. His smile and his half-closed, golden eyes and his scrunched up, pink nose and the steady thump of his foot all lit him up, belonged on his features, on his body.

And he was so beautiful. 

He didn’t understand why he felt the glow coming from his boyfriend so deeply within him, almost like they were connected. When Frank was happy, Gerard was happy too. Wherever Frank belonged, so did Gerard. 

Gerard didn’t understand it. Gerard didn’t understand anything, and sometimes that scared him. But, right now it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter! He didn’t need to understand to see the beauty of Frank’s soul. 

Frank’s foot stopped tapping, and his hazel, glowing eyes met Gerard’s for a moment before screwing up determinedly. When he sung the next line, his voice was softer, impossibly so.

“How can you love me when you don’t love yourself?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is I Was Wrong by Social Distortion and it's an excellent song that I feel sums up Frank's angry high schooler aesthetic also its an excellent song I highly recommend
> 
> I have abt a month of summer left so expect me to be churning chapters out like nobody's business because literally all I do in the holidays is furiouslyy write so that'll be cool
> 
> im glad to be back how are you guys???


	41. the truths are out and they're here to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it has been a little too long, my friends

It was Thanksgiving morning, and Frank was arriving in five minutes.

Gerard stood in front of the mirror, inspecting his appearance. He didn’t want to think about it, but here he was. 

Holding in a retch, he pinched his stomach and just stared and stared until the doorbell rang. 

-  
For the first time in a long time, he was having trouble holding a conversation with Frank.

Gerard got this anxiety all the time, and it was sickeningly familiar. He was so used to desperately scrambling for conversation topics and praying that the other was confident to lead the conversation. But never had he got it with Frank; he and Frank clicked from the start, and Frank would guide Gerard when he was particularly not in the mood. The point was, Frank was a talker, he was loud and confident and funny; just, not today.

To compensate, Gerard was rambling. Gerard could win a rambling award. He just unplugged his brain to mouth filter and let his mess of a mind pour out every last thought that crossed his mind.

Gerard had forgotten what he was talking about, which was probably dangerous, but it didn’t matter, because Frank wasn’t listening anyway. 

And the less he listened, the more Gerard talked. 

It was getting to the point where he was actively trying to shut up, but couldn’t, because the hurt was consuming him and his mouth was moving and he was on the brink of tears and he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t.

But then Frank glanced at him for the first time that day, with a loneliness so shocking it was pitiful. And he knew Frank wasn’t technically alone, but he also knew that Frank had a lot going on in that head of his.

And thoughts tend to make you lonely.

Gerard hadn’t realised he had stopped talking until he was burying his nose into Frank’s feathery hair and Frank was wrapping reluctant yet desperate arms around him, desperate grabby hands that shook with injured pride and confusion. 

And then Gerard marvelled over how Frank had ended his panicked tangent with one gaze. And then Gerard was scared. 

-

Gerard had forgot he was coming out at first, which was a pretty remarkable feat, as anyone who has ever came out will know it is the most terrifying thing in the seven seas. But now he had swung from rambling to not talking whatsoever. Gerard wasn’t sure if he was even able to breathe. 

His heart was in his mouth and it was suffocating him. And it was heavy on his tongue, for it was resigned to disaster. 

“Nothing feels okay anymore,” he said, once he finally remembered how to speak.

“Nothing ever was okay, anyway,” Frank said. Gerard didn’t reply because his muscles were too busy moulding themselves to the wall he leant against. “And that’s fine, I think.” Apparently, Frank was scared too.

“You just contradicted yourself. Okay is a matter of opinion, so if you think the world is not okay how can you say that’s fine with you?”

“I didn’t contradict myself. I juxtaposed. For we are characters in a story and the world loves Shakespearian irony.”

“That rhymed.”

Frank looked at him sadly. Eventually, Gerard’s mother called him down to greet guests.

“You coming?”

Frank shook his head. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” he said, creeping towards the CD player.

Gerard shrugged and scaled the stairs.

Mikey awaited him, performing a Christmas biscuit balancing act. “And the vampire emerges. You seem down, have a biscuit!”

Gerard accepted the food gratefully, then took another, and another, and then he felt sick again. Not really sick because of the biscuits or the cold air or the bout of flu circulating. Sick of himself.

“Cheer up, fucker.” Mikey ruffled his hair, and, as the doorbell rang, stationed himself as the biscuit distributer. 

“Hey, Aunt Barbara! Go right on through. Would you care for a biscuit?”

Aunt Barbara took two, kissing Mikey’s forehead and giving Gerard a polite nod. It continued as so with various relatives, and he was gradually losing the will to live. 

And, god, was he scared.

Eventually, his mom told him to fetch Frank, so the eating could begin. Gerard was trembling by this point, muscles weak and beyond his control. He felt sick. He felt so sick and everything was wrong.

Frank was curled up on Gerard’s bed with the Buzzcocks playing quietly. Gerard closed his eyes. His breaths were coming out in short bursts.

“We need to go,” he said finally. 

Frank said nothing. Just. Lay there, alone.

“Frankie?”

Gerard could hear the tremble in his own voice. His throat and mouth felt full of cotton wool and he couldn’t breathe.

Frank turned to look at him and he gasped for air, and a sob spilled out of his open mouth.

“Let’s run away.” His eyes were dark and terrible and full of hope. “Let’s run away and forget our childhoods before we can ruin them lets run away and change the world before it’s too late, let’s just run, let’s run Gerard-“ Frank was struggling for air too. 

Gerard edged his way towards Frank. He placed an unsteady hand on the small boy’s forearm.

Frank melted at his touch, all but throwing himself into Gerard’s arms. And like the world around them was an endless ocean, they both held on for dear life.

“I just want to be somebody,” murmured Frank, voice worn and damp and on the brink of breaking. “You don’t have to do this Gerard.”

Gerard withdrew so they could see each other. “I know. But I’m going to do it anyway.”

Frank laughed, and it wasn’t even a nervous laugh; it was solid laugh, a laugh that made Gerard’s heart warm, slowly but surely. And the warmth from that misplaced, beautiful laugh made Gerard want to sob again, just this time, not with emptiness.

“Well, that’s just Gerard. Stubborn and noble and brave and annoying.” Frank smiled. “I knew you could do it, I always did.”

“I love you.”

 

“Okay.” And Frank laughed with tearstained cheeks for the second time that evening. 

-

Two words. That’s all it ever is.

Two words. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. That’s all. 

Gerard mouthed them to himself while walking down the stairs. I’m gay. And that’s fine.

So easy. So goddamn fucking easy, but he was so afraid. 

But Frank was behind him throughout the night, a hand on the small of his back, a whisper or two of nothing in his ear. He was doing this. For Frank, for Mikey. For himself. For not hiding anymore. 

Eventually, all the aunties were a little tipsy, the embarrassing middle aged uncle was dancing, and the fire was lit. Gerard’s mom was distributing more cookies as an after-eights type snack.

“So, Mikey,” said miscellaneous aunt #3. “Got yourself a girlfriend yet?”

“Well, uh, ever since Kristin and I broke up, I’ve been finding it hard to date girls. Really miss her, you know, but I hear she’s happy where she is.”

The room collectively awwwed. It was true; Mikey missed Kristin, and was finding it hard to date girls. Boys, however, he was having little trouble with.

“Well, if it’s meant to be, I’m sure you too will meet again, maybe in this life, maybe in another,” said serene great aunt #2. Their grandma was smiling knowingly in the corner. 

“Gerard?” began another goddamn aunt. “How about you? I don’t recall you mentioning any lady friends to us.”

Gerard’s throat closed up. All eyes were on him, expectantly. 

I’m gay, chanted his head. I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay. Two words. So easy. I’m gay. 

“Well, uh,” he started, stalling for time almost unconsciously.

Frank met his nervous eyes and smiled, encouraging, loving. This time he didn’t just feel the warmth in his heart, but all over his body; from the deapths of his gut, the tense in his shoulders, and the flow of blood that reached his brain and his mouth.

“That’s funny you should say that, um, because there’s something I’ve been meaning to say. For a while. And I’m not ashamed of it anymore, I don’t want to hide anymore, and I hope you can respect this.” 

Come on, Gerard. For Frank, for Mikey. For yourself.

“I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im working on some new fics (that's why ive been gone so long) so watch this space  
> anyway hope you all have a lovely day


	42. I'm Not Okay (But I Will Be)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is gay now everybody knoowsss ooooo what gonne happen guess u better read it

Fuck.

Well, he was out now. In the open. And…the world hadn’t ended, yet.

In fact, nothing much had changed. Just two words, and existing still felt the same. After all the ordeal, it was…anticlimactic.

The room felt like a pause, as everyone, including Frank and Mikey and his grandma, stared in shock. And stared. And stared. And stared until Gerard was no longer calm, no longer okay with the anti-climax of coming out.

Fuck.

And again it was a big deal, it felt just like it had beforehand, and Gerard hated not knowing how they would react, not knowing the near future. Right now, anything could happen, and it was kind of exhilarating.

But beyond any triumph, he mostly wanted to curl up in his room and ignore the thousands of feelings pelting him from every angle. He still didn’t know what would happen now. He was out, and the world was still turning.

And the room was still staring.

And he could feel a prickle behind his eye from the sheer overwhelming of emotions, and as he sucked in a breath they were still staring. And staring, and staring.

God knows what depths of hell his brain went through before Frank broke the silence. 

“Christ, Gee. I didn’t think you could do it.”

Gerard directed a faint smile at him, still stunned. He had done it, against all odds.

In that moment, he longed to surge forward and hold Frank through it all. But he knew he had to face this now. Because he was out for the whole world to see.

“So like, what exactly do you mean by ‘gay’ here?” asked Aunt #2, untactfully. 

“I mean that I like boys. I like dating boys. I appreciate boys and their existences.”

“Well, I like boys too, I don’t see why it makes any difference,” remarked a cousin. Gerard smiled at her, thankfully, weakly. 

“But…Sara, you’re a girl, that makes it different!” hissed her mother.

“Not really. See, Gerard, what kind of boys you like?”

“Uh, I like dark hair, pretty eyes, good music taste.”

She eyed Frank knowingly. “You think Zayn’s hot?”

“From One Direction?”

She laughed.

“Sure.”

“Me too. See Mom? Exactly the same.”

“But…” she sighed. 

“So you mean…” began nasty Great Aunt #1. “You mean…you would indulge in such sinful-“

“Give it a rest, Ma. Just boys huh, Gerard? Can’t say I can sympathise,” said punkish distant relative of some kind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” yelled her father.

“For Christ’s sake, Dad, I’ve been dropping hints since the Stone Age. I’m gay, I have a girlfriend. I thought it was obvious.”

Her father looked at her with a face of utter shock. 

“Well Gerard, we’re proud of you. That takes guts in a family like this.” Gerard smiled politely, again. He was still frozen with terror.

“How…can you be sure, honey?” His mom looked at him warily. “How do you know this isn’t some sort of exploration phase? I’m glad you’re telling us but…you can’t be certain yet, right? You’re just questioning, it’s a natural thing to do.”

“Mom, I’ve known I’ve liked boys since I was eleven. And anyway, I have a boyfriend. I’m pretty certain.

“Who?”

Gerard gestured to Frank with jazz hands. He smiled. “Yeah, hi. I’m Frank, I’m Gerard’s boyfriend. Also pretty fond of boys, especially Gerard. Please don’t tell my mom.”

Gerard’s mom’s eyes widened. “We let you stay over at the house all the time!”

“Don’t worry Mom. No sex ‘till marriage, I’m no sinner.” Mikey and Frank snorted. 

“So that’s Frank!” exclaimed his grandma. “Oh honey, I’ve heard so much about you…please, sit down. Tell me about your music!”

“You mean…” Gerard’s dad looked as if he was about to explode. “She knew? And we didn’t? Why didn’t you warn us of this?”

“Don, it’s not my fault if the boys trust me more than their father. I’m no snitch.” Gerard had to restrain himself from oohing.

Mikey caught Gerard’s eye, looking frantic. He silently asked a question- Should I? - with his eyes.

“You don’t have to be ashamed anymore, Mikes.” Mikey smiled, the terror on his face still fresh.

“Well, while the trend is alive, I should probably mention. I’m bisexual. I actually have a boyfriend too.”

Their father’s eyes popped.

“What about Kristin?” said a random cousin. 

“Bisexual. I like boys and girls and whateverthehell. I’m not entirely phased by gender identity or whatever.”

“Pansexual,” murmured Gerard.

“Yeah, nobody knows what that means, Gee. I’m sticking to bi for now.”

“Mikey, honey, are you sure…” their mom’s words trembled. “Are you sure you haven’t just been…persuaded by Gerard or something? You liked Kristin a lot. Why can’t you just go back to that?”

Mikey was becoming visibly more anxious. Gerard swooped in, placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder and letting him wait it out.

“Sorry, Mom. But this is the truth.”

“It’s just…I don’t want to lose both of you to it.” Gerard bowed his head, willing his tears to stay inside his tear ducts.

“To what? What exactly have you lost them to?” Gerard looked up to see Frank, his wonderful Frank, standing up to his mother’s accidental words of hurt. “Excuse my cheek, Mrs Way, I know you don’t mean to hurt them, but you haven’t lost them.” He sucked in a breath. “Being gay doesn’t change who someone is. It’s just an extra factor in the scheme of it all, like having blue eyes or hating the taste of mushrooms. Rest assured, your sons are some of the greatest people to walk this earth, certainly some of the best I’ve met. And, since moving here, they undoubtedly changed my life. Do not shun them for who they are. They cannot change this. They are who they are, and they are wonderful, and I think you know that already.”

Gerard’s hand left Mikey’s shoulder, and he was racing towards Frank without a word. Frank grinned impossibly wide, bracing Gerard at arm’s length. 

“Smile, won’t you, sugar?” 

Gerard growled quietly and kissed him with all he had. And, like a movie scene, the world melted away.

-

“Gerard, I wanted to talk to you.”

Gerard was sat on the couch, nursing a black eye. Once he and Frank had broken apart, it became less movie and more reality, as an intrusive great aunt had slapped Frank, while her husband punched Gerard with disgusted murmurs of ‘sin, sin, sin’.

This had been the last straw for Donna, who kicked them out without a word or even a parting glance for them. They would not be invited back.

“Sure, Dad. Sit down.”

“Well…I just wanted to apologise.”

“For what?”

“Today. I should’ve accepted you in the blink of an eye. But I hesitated, and now you’re hurt.”

“It’s not too bad.”

“But, your mother and I let it happen.” He sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you. This’ll be hard for us. But I’m willing to try and accept you and your brother’s lifestyle, because you’re my sons. And…I hope you’ll teach me how to be the best father I can possibly be.”

“Thank you, dad. That means a lot.”

“Go join Frank now. And give your mother time, she’ll come around. It’s a bit of a shock, but I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

And Gerard went to go find his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that was crap but I didn't want to edit it because it was 1234 words llong. maths innit
> 
>  
> 
> anyway so this getting a little happier but lets not forget Gerard's self esteem issues and frank's general existence ooooo whats gonne happen guess u better subscribe to find out
> 
>  
> 
> also who watched the great british bake off? i cried. rip mel and sue and mary and bbc ownership
> 
> have a lovely day!!!


	43. passive agression, passive care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "where tf u been emma" theatre. english essays. i do have a life, even if it does revolve around pantomime and gothic victorian fiction

What now?

The world had crashed, like a video game at nighttime, like waves on a shingle shore. Gerard sometimes could not breathe, and sometimes he felt like he was flying, high, above the rest of the world. And sometimes, he felt like both at once.

His mom had not said a thing. She was acting like a shell, confused, drifting about, not looking anyone in the eye. His dad seemed guilty all the time, apologising at the slightest mistake. The rug had been pulled beneath the Way household, and nobody knew what to do.

Perhaps Mikey was the least affected, or perhaps he was too good at hiding his feelings. Or perhaps he was used to it.

Being used to it was bullshit. Gerard had had a shitton of experience feeling confused, feeling like he was about to vomit, and it still hit him hard every time.

Either way, Mikey would make an effort to knit the world back together, fix the aftermath. Making half-hearted conversation, letting smiles slip for each of them.

It was nice. Gerard still felt weird.

A shadow. A husk.

“I truly believe I will die before passing German.”

Frank was sprawled out on Gerard’s chair. He had just walked in, made himself at home, and started complaining about his German lessons without any pleasantries or explanations.

“Why did you take it, then? You could’ve just done Spanish like everyone else.”

“I honestly have no idea what got into my head. I don’t even know a single German person. I’ve never been to Germany.”

Gerard sighed. “Are you here just to complain?

Frank ignored him. “Like, honestly, I’m not going to pass. I don’t understand it, being in the classroom makes me want to throw up, I nearly cried in the oral exam. Do you think I could run away and live in the woods instead? It’s not like I’m ever going to need to speak German. Or need anything they teach us in school. Should I live in the woods? Gerard?”

Gerard kneaded his fists into his eyes. “Look, Frank. I can’t help you, so unless you need something, please just leave me alone.”

 

There was a pause so long that Gerard began to feel vomit rising in his throat, before Frank jumped onto the bed and clung onto him, head buried in Gerard’s chest. Gerard shot up and raced into the bathroom, before throwing up into the toilet.

“Sorry,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. Frank rubbed his back as his stomach went for another round. 

Once he was done, he washed out his mouth, ran back to his bed, and hid under the covers, embarrassed. God, why couldn’t he just function like everybody else? Nobody vomited at the slightest touch. Fucking freak.

He assumed Frank had left, but, after a while, someone ripped off his covers. Frank looked at him, wide eyes, a hesitant smile playing across his features. Gerard turned and buried his face into his pillow, cheeks burning.

“Sorry,” he said. It was so muffled Frank probably couldn’t even hear.

“Gerard. Gerard, look at me.” Gerard didn’t move.

Frank gently turned him over, bringing his chin up. Gerard began to shake, but Frank let go before he could freak out.

“Gerard, it’s okay. I don’t mind, vomit all you like.” He screwed his eyes up and tried to turn over again, but Frank’s firm hands blocked him, and he gave up. “I just want to talk. I don’t know, I just want to see you, know that you’re okay.” His voice trembled. “Tell me you’re okay.”

Gerard didn’t answer. 

“Do you want to go out? Get noodles or something?”

Again, Gerard didn’t say anything, but he climbed out of bed and began to search for clothes. He looked at Frank, trying to convey his message with his eyes.

After a while, Frank realised. “Oh, come on, babe, I’ve seen it all before.” Gerard glowered at him, but began to pull off his drawstring pyjama bottoms. Frank slapped his ass.

“Fuck off, Frankie.” Frank tried to look hurt, but he couldn’t hide his grin. 

“You called me Frankie.”

Gerard frowned. “Okay, I’m taking my shirt off now, so you better close your eyes or I’m going back to bed.”

Frank was about to protest, but he obliged. 

-

The sun had set about 5 hours ago, and the sky glowed orange with light pollution.

Frank had taken Gerard and the noodles to the skate park. Frank couldn’t skate for shit, but he was also a wannabe skater punk and had somehow gained the respect of the actual skater punks, along the way. Gerard was a little bit scared by the actual skater punk friends, but they all seemed to like him after he expressed interest in Bouncing Souls.

“Hey Frank! Hey Frank’s boyfriend!” they chorused. 

“Hey everyone! Gerard, you mind holding the noodles for a second?” Gerard took the bag off him, and ran over to the scary skater punks. “I’m freezing my balls off, what you doing out this late?” 

“George’s cousins from California think their skate scene is better than ours. We proving them wrong, basically.”

“It’s gonna be like a dance off,” said who Gerard assumed was George. “Just…without the dancing.”

Gerard blew a hot breath to the sky, waiting to Frank to finish chatting. It puffed like dragon smoke. The clouds were beginning to drizzle.

The air burnt a little, but was undoubtably doing him good. To be out the house, hey. 

Eventually, Frank jogged back over to him, scooping him up in an unexpected bear hug. “Right, let’s get this party started!”

The skater punks were leaving, most likely fleeing the rain.

“Bye Frank! Bye Frank’s boyfriend!”

Frank waved, then took Gerard’s free hand. “Help me find some firewood. Dry as possible.”

If Gerard had learnt anything, it was to not question Frank’s idea of fun. He shoved the noodles at his boyfriend and began to collect some sticks. Meanwhile, Frank had some shrivelled leaves, and was filling up a hole beneath one of the ramps.

Once Gerard had filled his arms with muddy bits of branch, he returned to Frank and the mouth-watering smell of veggie chow mein. 

“How about this for a den?” Frank chuckled and withdrew a penknife. He began to strip off the bark from Gerard’s sticks.

Once he had perfected about five, he chucked a few into the pit with the dried leaves, and used his lighter to start a fire. A few minutes and a bit of fanning later, it burnt brighter than the streetlights at the end of the park.

“We made this about a year ago, back when I first met George and that. I would come down in the summer when my mom was acting up and they would be there, always, whenever I needed them. We would stay here, overnight sometimes, around the fire, and someone brought blankets and we would play music and tell ghost stories ripped from shitty horror flicks.” 

Frank’s eyes looked misty, but that could just be from the ash.

“Important place, huh?”

“Impossibly so. Should we start on the noodles, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that bit about the german language was just me projecting 
> 
> happy xmas gang


	44. all about that Personality Crisis, you got it while it was hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jesus how long will this fuckin story go on for
> 
> okay the tense and the narrative voice is all over the place but i kinda use this as a way of experimenting with style enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from personality crisis the new york dolls
> 
> note: tense change is present to past a little after the dash also i just used first, second AND third person what she doin boi

Gerard, today, is alone.

And the most bizarre part of this, is he feels out of his depth. Gerard is a self-proclaimed loner, see. Normally, he takes an inner loneliness and stews in it, like a motherfucking stock cube. He relishes in that grey aura. Which is why he’s surprised to be uncomfortable.

Criticise the outsiders, if you will, but you must admit they are resourceful. If you spend your life deliberately isolating yourself, you may miss out on a few things. But you are safest away from the pack!

Think of it this way. Humans are shit. If there’s anything I can vouch for, it is that sentence. And, once you end up isolated, in one way or another, you gain perspective.

Outsiders know humans are shit, that’s why they stay outside. 

Gerard is an interesting case. He’s kind of always been outside, and that’s okay with him. It always has been. It is his own state of normality. It is easy.

Life is never easy. I can vouch for that too. 

Gerard the outsider, ends up retaining his outsideriness, but glimpses the inside. And it’s not as bad as he thought. And he ends up making friends. 

Maybe Frank is not from the inside. Frank’s a bit too stubborn for that; he’s the kind who enjoys pointing out bullshit, and there’s a lot of bullshit in the world. But, when misfits such as Frank and Gerard and the rest of them band together, it is indulgence in ‘normality’. Having friends is a standard thing. Outsiders do not have friends.

Gerard has friends.

Every trend has outliers, and there’s a huge outlier in humanity. Humans are shit, but they can also be more beautiful than anybody could possibly believe. That’s annoying; just when you’ve got into the habit of hating humans, you go and fall in bloody love. Life will NEVER be black and white, my friend. 

Where are the outsiders now? They’re all either dead or in love with the standard. They are lying in coffins or living in the suburbs.

Life is a cruel, cruel machine, and it will bend you until the fragile material of your soul gives under force.

Do not lose hope. Please. Look at Gerard. He has changed; he has found a new way of looking at life, he has been faced by a reality in which humans are real and yet sometimes beautiful. But he has not given yet! 

Change is GOOD. You know that by now. Change hurts like hell but it is the only way, sometimes. You go into this world, strong willed and sure of your opinions. And you die a changed soul. That may not be a bad thing. Because life is not easy, it is changeable and scary and evil and sometimes beautiful, and for the first time, Gerard Way is beginning to realise this.

-

Gerard is afraid of being alone physically. That has little deep, emotional significance; he’s just scared something might kidnap him. 

So, like any sane character in unknown and likely dangerous terrain, he resolved to seek civilisation. And chain coffee stores. 

Walking down the street in his nice jeans and his brand new jumper and hair brushed and his music turned up loud, he felt fancy as fuck. There were people, and they could look at him if they wanted, but he wouldn’t mind that much. Because it was daytime and he was going to drink coffee by himself and read a sophisticated book and ignore his personality crisis. And he was going to look damn good the whole time.

Try and understand those who build a life around image. I wish I were like them. Gerard did too. Image, television, colours and faces, they rule the world. Becoming shallow, dependent on looking good; that’s fighting the system. Television exists to make you feel bad about yourself, to make some stranger in an office filthy rich. 

It is an act of rebellion to love yourself! And Gerard wished he could. But for now, he was gonna walk down the street in some nice clothes and pretend to like himself at the very least. It is a start.

Gerard sat down and ordered an expresso because he’s real cool like that. He grabbed the mini glass and nabbed a seat by the window, where he could alternate between staring at his book and staring at the rain. Aesthetic. 

The book was paperback, with crammed tight words that swam underneath too much light. If he tried hard enough, he could listen to music simultaneous, so long as it was quiet. There, now he looked enough like an outsider, proving points. If only they permitted cigarettes. 

He sighed

A million thoughts are thought in the millionth of a second. The world and its people are changing faster than the planet spins about the sun. 

Gerard thought about Frank. He thought about sunshine and rainfall and chilly hands, and being afraid of what the future may hold. 

He thought about music and love. And sadness and change and how ridiculous humanity was, how ridiculous he was. And Gerard was laughing, a tiny bit. At himself, and his profound fucking thoughts.

God, we are all so stupid.

“What the fuck is he doing?”

Gerard heard the harsh whisper clear as day. Like in the movie, where everyone goes conveniently quiet in order for the protagonist and the audience hear something vital to the plot.

He turned around, slowly. There they were, dumb fucking jackets, like they thought they were some kind of gang. Square shoulders and square jaws and squinty eyes and muscles that would give way to beer bellies when they hit the age of 30.

They were all glaring at him, no doubt. He grinned and gave them a little wave.

“Hey, boys!”

They began to surround him. One legitimately growled, and Gerard had to fight back a laugh.

“What you doin’ in a place like this, huh?” Gerard winked. “I recommend the Christmas drinks. Might be hard, with that masculinity complex going on, but nobody’s too macho for gingerbread lattes.”

Was he provoking them? Of course he was.

“We…We weren’t here to buy drinks!”

“Whatever you say, honey.” Gerard downed the rest of his coffee and swung down from his stool. “Ooh, I like your jackets. Just like the pink ladies, huh?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Grease? No?” Gerard sighed. That could’ve been so good if they were educated enough on the greatest films of all time. “Look, lovely as it has been talking to you, I ought to be getting home. Mikey and I are having a Buffy marathon. Toodle p-“

Before he could go anywhere, the tall guy at the front pinned him to the wall, an arm cutting off his airway. He grunted.

“Stop, stop, now,” said the ringleader, “Let’s take this outside.”

He was released and grabbed by the shoulder towards the exit. “Excellent idea, I could do with a smoke and a breath of fresh air.”

The ringleader sighed. “Strangle him again, Tom, he’s getting on my nerves.”

“Ooh, you’re hot when you’re bossy, do it-oof!” Yeah, Gerard was pretty fucked.

Once they were outside, Tom threw Gerard to the ground. Gerard picked himself up and fumbled for his cigarettes, dropping his book in the process. 

“What’s this?”

“Charles Dickens,” he replied, smug.

“What the fuck?”

“What a fucking nerd, ew.”

If Frank were here, this was the point in which he would be lecturing them on the importance of Victorian literature and its role in social reform policies. 

“It’s really good, I would recommend it. Oh wait, I forgot none of you could read.” There goes punch number one.

“Fag,” spat one. 

“Well, only if you say please,” said Gerard, offering him a cigarette. Punch number two.

“You’re the scum of this place, idiot. I bet your mother can’t bear the sight of you.”

“I bet she cries herself to sleep.”

Gerard took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate the effort you go to make me feel bad about myself but I honestly don’t have the time of the day to be your outlet for all your self-loathing and denial. Do yourself a favour and fuck off, I have bigger things to worry about.” 

Punch. Kick. Another kick. Here we go.

Gerard hurt, in his heart and all over his body. It wasn’t fair, and he was about to black out.

But, all he could do was laugh. Maybe he still was the outsider. Maybe this would hurt forever in his messed up little head but fuck, he would have the last laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i could say something like "soz i was off saving the pandas" but recently ive just been drowning in work and staring at the telly where the rebellion at man ON the other hand i started watching stranger things (now it aint cool anymore) and damn son that's a hella soundtrack AND some well talented kids wtf


	45. fucken guitars (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a part one and shit because important shit and i liked how it ended so like # tbcontinued

What do you want them to feel today?  
I want them to feel as if revolution is possible. Yes, that’s right. I want them to believe that their existence is revolutionary, and I want them to revel in it. For the record is scratched, and tomorrow is overdue.

-

“Shit,” said Frank.

Gerard glared at him from the position, sprawled across the pavement. “Thanks for the input, babe.”

“Nah, you’re gonna have some sick battle scars tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you off.” Gerard grinned up at him, making grabby hands. Frank rolled his eyes and picked him up.

“It sucks. It sucks that we can’t even go out alone without being afraid.”

“You mean, I can’t. You’d punch somebody with the slightest provocation.” 

“Damn right.” Frank puffed out his chest. He was like some kind of ridiculously overconfident puppy.

The winter sky was darkening rapidly, and the air becoming bitter. It tasted of Christmas; of smoke and light; of warmth and cold.

Gerard shivered. 

“Jacket,” said Frank, and gave Gerard his. Gerard would protest, but he was happy enough with the silence and the faraway dancing city and the greyish of the sky.

Frank drew a biting breath. “It’s six. Hows about we grab a train to the city?”

“To do what?”

Frank suppressed a grin. “I hear wonderful things about Jersey’s punk scene, yaknow.” He extended a hand and raised an eyebrow. “C’mon. You’ll look right at home with that black eye.”

“Shitty punk?” Gerard fanned himself, pantomiming your delicate Edwardian gentlewoman. “Why, good sir, that sounds quite disgraceful.”

Frank stuck out his tongue, five-year-old, and Gerard accepted the hand. And just like that; hand-in-hand, tight and bone white; they ran into the night.

-

Nights like these, they’re blood in your mouth. They’re that metallic type of rebellion; that pain that is chaos and creation, and traces of the supernova in which we were created.

People say you are made of stardust. Rather, you are made of the ashes of stars. The greatest, the oldest stars fuse iron last, before the violent collapse that reduces them to atoms being dragged through your mortal veins. Dead stars, keeping your heart pumping.

The air was sharp, as it is in winter. It felt like the last time you ran with a friend, into the blurred and brightest sunsets. It felt like concerts do, like not knowing the words and hair in your mouth and bruises on your body. Like other people’s beer in your hair, like sweat slicked bodies against you, drums in your gut and kissing with dirt.

It felt good. Yeah, it felt amazing.

The music probably wasn’t any good. Gerard was certain that, in his own home, his earphones on, he would’ve steered clear of the band like the plague.

But Gerard was not at home. He was here, and it was perfect, somehow.

Frank laughed, toothy. “That was…that was fucking sick!” He was breathless with adrenaline; Gerard could hear as much.

“Yeah,” said Gerard. “Yeah, it was.”

-

The train wouldn’t come for a while yet, so they went to McDonalds to eat unhealthy fries.

Gerard’s legs ached, and his clothes were soaked through, and Frank wouldn’t stop laughing; Gerard couldn’t help but join in. Frank had crowded him into a booth, sitting right beside him, instead of opposite.

“You know how bad for you this shit is?” Frank said, as Gerard gave one of his fries a nice ketchup bath.

“Yeah.” And they were laughing again, like idiots. The people were looking at them; a pair of teenagers, black eyes and grazes, squished just a little too close for innocence.

“Never had I such faith in guitars and youth,” Frank was waxing poetic. “Never had I such disregard for blue love and fistfights.”

In the bastard of hindsight, Gerard realised how important that moment was. Those aches and smiles. Christ, he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t?

“Write that down, and you got lyrics for the talent contest.”

Frank smiled at him. “Ah yes, defiance. Regrettably, I have already prepared a song with perhaps more relevance.”

“Relevance?”

“It will piss people off more effectively.” Gerard wondered to himself if Frank was aware how he sounded. He probably was; Frank was the conscious yet defiant type. Yes, defiant; times like these.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Frank laughed, again, defiant with his glee. “Cool,” he said, and took a fry.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> went to see circa waves (sick brit indie band) early april at the forum in Kentish Town, w my gf and my other buddy (who likes the band enough to third wheel). it contends as the best fucking concert ive ever attended ok and after we had ssome cheeky MaccaDeez so like all of this is referenced from my diary hope u liked
> 
> my internet has been broken and ive been in bleeding devon all week AND ive Lots of Work and Lots of Exams so shit im sorry abt the lack of updates. i hate this time of year it STRESS 
> 
> i hope you are all banterful and healthy and smiling and i hope ur day was SICkAGE
> 
> kik: heytheremikeyway  
> insta: ofunicornsandtoasterforks


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